Reinvent Yourself
by MadnessJones
Summary: G1: There is a traitor on board the Ark, and it's up to Prowl to get to the bottom of this investigation. Lies, secrets, and treason are only the beginning, and what Prowl discovers will shake the core of the Autobot forces. No pairings.
1. Subterfuge

_Author's Notes: Welcome one and all to another G1 story! I'm really excited about this one, since it's been so long since I've done a story with any true mystery elements. Of course my readers are smart, so you guys will probably figure out who the culprit is before the big reveal. Thank you for reading, and I look forward to any comments you may have to share about this story :)_

* * *

Chapter 1

Subterfuge

The medbay aboard the Ark was quickly crowding with patients as Ratchet and Wheeljack did their best to accommodate them all. It had been a hard fought battle between the Autobots and the Decepticons. The Autobots had actually been forced to retreat after nearly losing Warpath to one of Megatron's fusion cannon blasts. Overall morale was at a low point, and the worst part was...

"I can't believe they got it," Prowl muttered to himself, "I can't believe Megatron and his goons got the ionic destabilizer. Prime, with that weapon he could bring earth to its knees! We have to get it back!"

"And we will, Prowl," Optimus replied shakily; his intakes damaged in the battle, "For now though we must tend to our own. How is Warpath, Ratchet?"

"He'll pull through. He's a tough little fragger," Ratchet replied without looking away from his work.

"Hey! I could use some help over here!" Powerglide shouted irritably as he held his wing in his arms, "Hello!?"

"Ugh, Wheeljack can you handle him?" Ratchet snapped at the engineer.

"No can do, Ratchet," Wheeljack replied, "I'm working on Bluestreak right now. Hey Sparkplug, could you fix Powerglide? Your small hands are better equipped for those tiny wires in his wings anyway."

"Sure thing, Wheeljack," Sparkplug replied.

The human mechanic then strode over to Powerglide with his toolkit, and Powerglide looked offended that one of the top medics wasn't rushing to his aid. It wasn't that Sparkplug wasn't good at his job, it was just that Powerglide like most fliers was arrogant and thought he deserved better.

Prowl meanwhile went to sit next to Prime's medical berth to continue their conversation. The Prime had suffered more damage than usual, but it didn't seem to be life threatening. A cracked face mask, exposed wires in his chassis, leaking energon from his shoulder joint...yeah, he'd live.

"Prime, there is still something that is bothering me about today's incident," Prowl muttered softly so only Prime could hear, "The building that housed the ionic destabilizer was password protected and reinforced with electrum siding. The only way the Decepticons could get inside was with the passcode."

"It appears Laserbeak is up to his old tricks again," Optimus surmised.

"I would think so too, except we discussed this situation in the new war room downstairs," Prowl pointed out, "Only our senior staff members know the passcode, there are no climate control vents since no humans are allowed inside, and even the dates of our meetings are classified to all except Autobot personnel. Therefore, there was only one way for Megatron to get his greedy servos on it..."

"You think someone gave it to him?" Prime stated rather than asked.

"It's the only way," Prowl replied gravely, "I don't know if it was logic-washing or if we truly...Prime, I don't want to say it, but we may have a traitor in our midst."

"You sound like Cliffjumper," Optimus remarked in amusement.

"This is serious, Prime," Prowl replied sternly, "If the Decepticons have a mole in our own ranks, then we must find out who it is and why they have turned on us. Our list of suspects only includes the senior staff, but to keep them from getting suspicious I would suggest opening an all-inclusive investigation. That way the real culprit won't know we're onto them."

"Now you sound like Red Alert," Prime said wryly.

"Who is a suspect," Prowl pointed out, "I will conduct the investigation alone, but I will request increased security so that no listening devices or Decepticon weapons are smuggled in. I know this seems extreme Optimus, but we must protect the Ark and Autobots secrets at all costs. If Megatron can use our own people against us, then we don't stand a chance against the Decepticons. We'll have enough trouble retrieving the destabilizer as it is, but if there's a spy among our own we're as good as dead."

"Prowl, what you claim is very serious," Prime told him; all traces of good humor gone, "We have worked with every Autobot aboard this ship for eons. If one of them is guilty, it could undermine the trust of this unit for generations to come."

"It is better to condemn one guilty spark and save our people than to leave this alone and doom us all to destruction," Prowl countered, "I promise to be thorough and to not arrest anyone until I am certain I have a credible suspect. When everyone is repaired, I request that the Ark go on temporary lockdown."

"That seems rather extreme," Prime replied hesitantly, "However, if that is what it will take for you to do your job, then I grant it."

"I won't disappoint you, sir," Prowl replied with a slight bow of his helm, "Now, I need to see if someone can repair my pede."

With those words Prowl limped away to where Sparkplug was working on Powerglide. Optimus Prime only hoped he was doing the right thing by giving Prowl so much freedom over this investigation. After all, logical as Prowl was he did have a tendency to go overboard when given free reign. Prime also hoped Prowl's investigation revealed that there was another explanation besides a traitor among them. After all, the senior staff wasn't just a group of Autobots to Prime, they were his friends.

* * *

After his pede was repaired Prowl went back to his office to try to figure out where he should begin his investigation. The only member of the senior staff that wasn't a suspect was Optimus Prime himself, yet Prowl would still need someone to check for mind control devices. Virtually every member of the medical staff was also a suspect, so Prowl would use Hoist to check for insidious mind control chips since he was the most experienced medic with low security clearance.

Ratchet, Wheeljack, and Perceptor all had the password that had been given to the Decepticons. The other suspects included Ironhide, Red Alert, Blaster, and Prowl's own best friend Jazz. Jazz was actually a likely suspect since he was the head of the special ops division of the Autobots. If anyone could smoothly transfer a code to the enemy, it was Jazz.

Prowl poured over his suspect list to see which ones were the likeliest candidates to start with. Red Alert has actually betrayed them once before to Starscream, but to be fair his processor had been glitched at the time. He was usually an overzealous security chief that suspected everyone else of treason (or just trying to take his job). Could that passion merely be a front to cover up the fact that he was working for the Decepticons this whole time?

Then there was Blaster, the newest member of the senior staff. He was in charge of communications between the Ark and all other incoming transmissions. If the Decepticons contacted them directly Blaster would be in the best position to hide that fact. Prowl didn't have a motive, especially since Blaster seemed to hate Soundwave so much, but Blaster certainly had means.

Ironhide and Ratchet were both highly trusted due to their age and the fact that they had been Optimus Prime's personal friends for milli-vorns. Could either of them be coerced into betraying their cause? Ironhide loved to fight and wasn't the most intellectual of the group, but to underestimate him could be costly. Ratchet was highly intelligent and was in charge of keeping everyone patched up for the next battle. Could he be tired of the fighting and willing to surrender to Megatron in exchange for leniency for the crew?

Wheeljack and Perceptor were both mechs of science. All Perceptor wanted to do was sit in his lab all day, culture samples for research, and repair chips. All Wheeljack seemed to want to do was drive Ratchet crazy with his finicky inventions that always seemed to blow up in his faceplate. Could either one of them really turn against the faction that valued their talents most?

Then there was Jazz. Smooth talking fast acting Jazz. Jazz was friendly to a fault and seemed loyal to the Autobot cause. That being said, he was a master spy and would be the best one at keeping his composure under pressure. Prowl hated to admit it, but Jazz would probably be the most likely to get away with it if he was to turn to the dark side. Prowl would need to be especially careful when investigating Jazz.

Heaving a heavy intake, Prowl got out of his office chair and set to work. His first stop, the control room. He would have to enforce lockdown before he could begin his investigation. It was a risky move to alert the suspect they were under suspicion, but it was necessary to keep them from running away from the scene.

* * *

To say the news of the lockdown had not gone over well was an understatement. Red Alert was outraged that he had been kept in the dark and would not be participating in the investigation. He had even accused Prowl of trying to overthrow him. Everyone else however was upset for the more obvious reason that they were trapped in the Ark indefinitely.

Prowl put Inferno in charge of searching every member of the Ark that had to be called back in from patrol duty, which only made Red Alert even madder.

"This is an outrage!" Red Alert fumed, " _I_ am chief of security, not him! Also, if everyone is a suspect then so is Inferno! I want answers! I want justice! I want more cameras for my office!"

"Settle down, Red Alert," Prowl replied calmly, "Inferno has already been cleared. I have already looked into his activities and have concluded that he is not a suspect in this case."

Of course Prowl was lying. He never cleared Inferno because he never had to. Inferno didn't rank highly enough to have the password that had been passed along to the Decepticons, so he was never a suspect. Red Alert and Ironhide were however, so Prowl couldn't afford using them for security detail.

"So Inferno, who has yet to return from patrol?" Prowl asked Inferno; ignoring Red Alert giving him the skunk-optic.

"Just Grimlock and Bumblebee, sir," Inferno replied, "I'll just tell you though, I _do not_ look forward to frisking Grimlock. He's gonna try to bite me."

"I'll be right here with you the entire time," Prowl assured the firetruck-former.

"Why did Ratchet and Wheeljack invent those blasted Dinobots anyway?" Red Alert groused with his arms crossed over his chassis, "All they do is cause trouble! Last week Sludge and Slag got into a fight in the hallway and broke three of my cameras! Those monsters should be deactivated!"

Prowl didn't dignify the rant with a response. He wondered if Red Alert was trying to distract him from his search. After all, what kind of Autobot would wish deactivation on an established member of their own team? Even if that member was dumber than dirt and broke everything.

The first member of the patrol to return was Bumblebee, with Spike and Carly riding in his front seats. The yellow beetle opened his doors for the teens to get out and then transformed back into robot mode.

"Hey guys, I got the message," Bumblebee told Prowl, Inferno, and Red Alert, "Are we really under lockdown? What happened?"

"I am investigating a possible mole in our ranks," Prowl replied unabashedly, "You will submit to Inferno's search of your subspace and interior."

"Oh, um, okay," Bumblebee stammered awkwardly, "I'll do whatever it takes to cooperate with you guys. I hope you're wrong though. If there actually was a traitor here on the Ark, then nothing is sacred anymore."

"You gonna be okay, Bumblebee?" Spike asked in concern.

"I'll be fine, but this might take a few minutes," Bumblebee told them, "If you wanna go ahead and meet up with Sparkplug, I'll catch up in a few."

Spike and Carly then said goodbye to Bumblebee and made their way to their separate destinations on the ship; Spike to go look for his father and Carly to go visit Ironhide in the weapons room. That just left Bumblebee to be scanned and his subspace searched by Inferno and Prowl.

Red Alert continued to fume and watch as Inferno performed the routine search on Bumblebee. Prowl found it suspicious that Red Alert insisted on keeping the investigation team within his line of sight. Then again, it was Red Alert, and if he were innocent he might still act this way. Further analysis was required.

* * *

When Carly made it to the weapons room Ironhide and Jazz were going over the features on a new plasma rifle together. Apparently it was an import that Chromia had sent from Cybertron as a gift to Ironhide, and he was showing it off like a proud sire shows off a new sparkling.

"My Chromia sure does know what I like," Ironhide was going on, "A heavy trigger to prevent accidental discharge and keep me on top of my game. A wide barrel to spray fire over a large area, and nine chambers to release a shower of plasma fire. Yep, my baby knows just what I needed."

"Sounds like it," Carly said from her place by Ironhide's foot, and the two mechs looked down to regard their new arrival.

"Hey, Carly," Ironhide greeted her warmly, "You wanna see the specs for my new toy?"

"Sounds great," Carly replied amiably.

Carly knew that most 'Bots didn't consider Ironhide to be so much _smart_ as _seasoned_ , but after spending long hours conversing with him about weapons and tech specs she knew he was more intelligent than most gave him credit for. The college student loved learning about Cybertronian technology, and when she wasn't talking to one of the scientists like Perceptor or Wheeljack she was talking to Ironhide.

"So Carly, did you have to go past the TSA on your way in here?" Jazz asked with an easy grin.

"The what?" Ironhide asked, not in on the joke.

"The TSA: Transforming Security Afts," Jazz joked, earning a laugh from both Carly and Ironhide.

When Carly finished laughing she asked, "So, what exactly is Prowl investigating? Things seem to be shut up pretty tight, and Bumblebee said something about a traitor on the Ark. What did he mean, Jazz?"

"That's what's got me bugged about all this," Jazz replied contemplatively, "Prowler normally tells me what's goin' on, but not this time. All I know is for some reason Prime suspects there's a Decepticon sympathizer in here, but I don't know why and I got a bad feelin' crawlin' through my spinal struts. Prowl would've added me to the team of investigators, but he didn't this time, which means I'm a suspect."

"A suspect of what?" Carly asked, "What did the Decepticons do? Why does Prowl think there's a traitor here?"

"I have no idea, sparklet," Ironhide replied as he clenched his fist at his side, "But if there is a fraggin' 'Con turncoat in this base, then they better hope Prowl finds 'em before I do, 'cause if I ever get my servos on them I'll..." His sentence ended in a growl and lifting his cannon threateningly to demonstrate his feelings on the matter.

"It's gotta be a mistake," Jazz insisted, looking fidgety and troubled in a way Carly wasn't used to seeing in him, "We're all Autobots. We've been together for more vorns than I care to count. I mean, how can anyone live here and wanna go off and join the 'Cons? Also, what intel did the 'Cons even get to cause all this fuss?"

"Who says it's intel?" Ironhide posited, "Maybe one of our guys was attacked and the mech who did it was answerin' to Megatron. Errgh! I'll tell you guys, this really grinds my gears! We could have a fraggin' Megatron lover right in this base, and I can't even shoot 'em 'cause I don't know who it is! First our new weapon gets stolen, and now this!"

"Calm down, Ironhide," Carly replied as she placed a delicate hand on his leg, "You guys will find out if anything is wrong. Prowl is the best tactician you have, and if anyone can find the traitor it's him."

There was silence in the room for a few moments, but then suddenly Jazz got an impish looking smirk on his face plate, causing Carly and Ironhide to look at him in confusion.

"Hey guys," Jazz said slowly, "I just figured out the best way to punish the traitor."

"How?" Ironhide growled; ready to rip into something.

"We change his name in his official records to Starscream," Jazz replied with a slag-eating grin.

This elicited another laugh from the group, and Carly couldn't help but feel better about the situation. She was sure that there was no way Ironhide or Jazz could be the traitor. She only hoped that the whole thing was a misunderstanding. She didn't want one of her friends to secretly be evil. She couldn't imagine any of the Autobots harming humans and inflicting pain the way a Decepticon would. Surely none of them were true traitors...right?

* * *

Spike watched as his dad helped Ratchet and Wheeljack repair Warpath's arm; the tank-former watching their every move as they worked. Fortunately the other patients had been cleared to go, but poor Warpath was going to be stuck with the cranky medic and insane engineer for a few more days.

"I don't get it, Dad," Spike said to Sparkplug, "A fink in the Autobot ranks? That's impossible! Hm...maybe it's another clone, like that time Megatron made an Optimus Prime lookalike to try to trick us."

"We can only hope, son," Sparkplug replied wearily, "Though I doubt the Autobots would fall for that trick twice."

"What are they even POW investigating?" Warpath asked helplessly, "Prowl didn't even BOOM say what the BLAMMO incident was."

"I'm sure we'll all be informed in good time," Ratchet sighed gruffly as he attached more wires from the new arm to Warpath's shoulder joint, "Frankly I think joining the Decepticons would be an idiotic idea. They have no care for life, and their medics are all trained so poorly it's a wonder there are any Decepticons left at all."

"Amen to that," Sparkplug replied as he climbed up the ladder to Warpath's berth, "Hey Warpath, I'm gonna work on some loose wiring in your left pede. It'll pinch a little but you'll regain full mobility by tomorrow morning."

"Gee, thanks Sparkplug," Warpath replied gratefully, "I can't wait to ZAM BLAST POW those Decepticons."

"Hey, don't get over eager, or Prowl might start investigating you," Ratchet admonished as he half-heartedly waved a wrench in front of Warpath's faceplate, "Just focus on getting better, alright?"

"Yeah, alright," Warpath grumbled dejectedly; looking forward to kicking 'Con tailpipe.

"It just doesn't make sense," Ratchet muttered again to his companions, "What could the Decepticons have that would tempt an Autobot to defect and act as a spy?"

"Absolutely nothing," Wheeljack replied with a firm nod of his helm, "Decepticons are jerks with no sense of love or loyalty. The Autobots have great medics, great scientists, and a leader that would shave off part of his own spark for a chance at peace. The Decepticons can't compete with that."

"No kidding," Sparkplug replied agreeably.

"Maybe Bombshell planted a cerebro shell or something," Spike tried to rationalize, "Maybe whoever it is isn't aware they're doing it. Maybe the 'Cons found a way to remote control one of our friends."

"I wouldn't put it past Megatron," Ratchet replied bitterly, "It wouldn't be the first time. Sometimes I wonder if there are any free thinking Decepticons left. There can't be, because Megatron doesn't want free thinkers. He wants obedient drones. That's what I can't stand about the Decepticons. With the Autobots we all have the freedom of choice, and we care for each other and for the lives of others. That compassion was what drew me to the Autobot cause in the first place, because I could see how much our side strives to end the war and bring about peace."

"Wow, that was beautiful Ratchet," Spike replied sincerely, "What about you, Wheeljack? Why did you join the Autobots?"

"Well it's been so long ago I could hardly remember the why, but I do know what I love about our faction the most," Wheeljack replied fondly, "We Autobots have the right to fail."

"Um...huh?" Spike asked; confused.

"You see Spike, scientific breakthroughs don't happen overnight," Wheeljack explained, "They require trial and error. Especially for someone as klutzy as I am, I'm afraid to say. Well, thanks to being given time and resources I've been allowed to cause a few explosions and fail in a few experiments, but it's led to some truly remarkable inventions. The sonic destabilizer, the dual frequency pulsar cannon, the Insecticon repellant, and my greatest creations of all; the Dinobots."

"You call _that_ your greatest creation?" Ratchet snorted sarcastically, "Why did I help you build those abominations again?"

"Because anatomy is your thing?" Wheeljack replied sheepishly, and Ratchet snorted again at the innocent wide-optic look Wheeljack was giving him, "But my point is that Decepticons don't have that. If a Decepticon fails they get beaten within an inch of their life, and that makes them jittery when they work or fight. You'll notice that Starscream has taken more potshots from Megatron than Mercury has from asteroids. That's why the Decepticons will never win, because they're too busy trying to meet this perfect standard they can never reach. In a way, I pity them."

"Well I don't," Ratchet replied with his arms crossed over his chassis, "Because of the Decepticons we're on total lockdown, and you know what that means."

"Um, no. What does it mean?" Spike asked dumbly.

"It means I'm trapped in this orange tin can with the twins!" Ratchet shouted dramatically, and everyone else laughed, "It's not funny! Do you know what a bored Sunstreaker and Sideswipe will do to this place?

"Paint it?" Wheeljack asked with mock hopefulness.

"Oh, shut up and go work on building a new nozzle for Warpath's cannon," Ratchet grumbled as he turned back to his work on the tank.

"Can do!" Wheeljack replied cheerfully before disappearing in the back room.

Spike laughed at their antics and then turned to where his dad was working on Warpath's pede. For all of their sakes Spike hoped Prowl was wrong about there being a traitor. After all, if a mech was willing to betray kind sparks like Optimus Prime, Ratchet, and Wheeljack, then what else would such a twisted processor be capable of?


	2. Surveillance

_Author's Notes: Yay! Chapter 2 is out in a timely manner! I shouldn't celebrate something so mundane, but focus isn't my strong suit. Stubbornness yes, focus no. Anyway, now we get further introduced to the suspects and what Prowl has to deal with in his investigation. Detective work isn't all car chases and gun blazing after all, and no one would know that better than Prowl. Thank you for reading this new story of mine, and please review :)_

* * *

Chapter 2

Surveillance

There was a palpable pressure on board the Ark. Those that had been cleared of Prowl's investigation, namely Optimus Prime, Inferno, Hound, and Trailbreaker, were put in charge of the mission to retrieve the ionic destabilizer from Decepticon Headquarters...that is, if they could do so without getting killed. For everyone else however the air was tense for quite a different reason. Everyone left was considered a suspect in a plot to overthrow the Autobots.

The rec room was mostly quiet except for the hushed gossip wafting from table to table. One of those tables was occupied by Blaster, Perceptor, Jazz, and Cosmos. Like everyone else, they worried about what Prowl's findings would mean for them as well as the rest of the Autobots.

"I still can't believe it," Cosmos murmured as he shook his helm in disbelief, "I'm gone for a measly two months, and I come back to find the Ark has been hurled into an episode of As The Kitchen Sinks!"

"Don't I know it," Blaster replied ruefully, "Everybody accusin' everybody else, it's disgraceful!"

"Indeed, though I must admit that there's a bit of excitement in attempting to solve the mystery," Perceptor interjected.

"What'chu talkin' about, Percy?" Blaster asked crossly, "You can't seriously think this is some sort of game."

"Indeed not," Perceptor replied defensively, "I'm just saying that I've been putting my own detective skills to work to try to determine who Prowl will most likely accuse first."

"Oh, yeah?" Jazz asked curiously, "Who you figure it is then?"

"Now keep in mind that I cannot be conclusive as to who the traitor is," Perceptor whispered conspiratorially, "However, I can deduce who I believe is most likely to be _accused_ by Prowl. First of all, the ionic destabilizer was stolen. Second, the investigation started the very day after the ionic destabilizer was stolen. Third, no one has yet been told _why_ the investigation is taking place. Therefore, the theft provides correlation and most likely causation. That means the traitor gave away information to our enemies."

"So we have a mole?" Blaster asked incredulously.

"Indeed," Perceptor nodded, "That means the culprit will be someone that had access to the security codes for the stolen weapon and also had the ability to encrypt their transmission to the Decepticons. That would mean senior staff only. Given the method and the timeframe of the crime, I believe the first one that will be accused is you, Blaster."

"Me?!" Blaster yelped, "But I'm innocent!"

"I never said you weren't," Perceptor replied coolly, "I'm merely saying that you would be the most likely candidate to be accused. I'm not even sure it was a member of our senior staff at all, considering we were all chosen for our loyalty and skill sets. Cliffjumper told me his theory on the matter-"

"Lemme guess, Mirage," Jazz replied with wry wit, "Man, Cliff's been ridin' Mirage's bumper practically since those two met. I dunno why he can't just let go of his anger. So Mirage was an elite mech? So what? He's a decent guy."

"You certainly know Mirage better than I do," Perceptor admitted, "Though his invisibility means he would be able to sneak into a briefing unseen and transmit all he knew. I'm not saying Cliffjumper is right, but I wouldn't discount the theory either."

The others didn't reply. It was hard to know what to say after something like that. Blaster knew Perceptor meant no harm by trying to deduce what happened, but it still meant they were trying to prove one of their friends committed treason. Jazz stared down at his drink, Cosmos scratched the back of his helm awkwardly, and Blaster looked around the room to see if anyone else heard them. Perceptor cleared his vocalizer and shifted in his seat. He knew he had gone too far, but he didn't know how to make it right.

They looked at each other after a few awkward minutes, but every faceplate said the exact same thing. _It could be you. It could be any of you._

* * *

Prowl had commandeered Red Alert's office despite the objections of the irate security mech. Prowl wouldn't stay long. He just needed security footage from all of the pertinent rooms on the day of the Decepticon battle. The videos wouldn't show Prowl anything useful if the transmission went out during the fight, but if there was coordination in advance or any suspicious activity he would find out.

Once Prowl got all the tapes he needed he went to leave the room. As he opened the door Red Alert, who had been leaning against the door to listen in on Prowl, fell over and landed flat on his face. Prowl didn't even look back as Red Alert cursed him out and shook his fist at the Datsun.

Back in his office, Prowl started playing the first tape he grabbed out of the stack; the medbay on the morning before the battle.

The camera had been placed near the ceiling, and looked down on Ratchet as he cleaned up the medbay; for once free of patients. A tiny speck could be seen on the floor, and once it climbed the ladder to the nearest berth Prowl could see it was Sparkplug.

"I hear the Decepticons have been awful quiet," Sparkplug commented as he wiped his hands with an old oil rag.

"I doubt it'll remain that way for long," Ratchet grumbled, "I just hope they haven't learned about the ionic destabilizer. That thing could level entire cities within a matter of seconds, destroying buildings piece by piece and burning the flesh from human bones with pinpoint precision. I don't know why Wheeljack and Perceptor built that thing!"

"Jealous they didn't ask you?" Sparkplug teased.

"Oh, _please_! Spare me from wacky engineers and their flights of fancy!" Ratchet groused, "Every time Wheeljack asks me to help him with a project it ends in disaster. There was that time on Cybertron he asked me to help him with a research project he was doing on cybermatter. By the end of the experiment part of the cybermatter had fused to his arm. Then there was the time he wanted my help with an invention that would improve communications, and the blasted thing blew out our audials for an orn! No wonder he wanted me there, he needed someone to patch together his hearing circuits!"

"Then there's the Dinobots," Sparkplug smirked.

"Don't even get me started on those unruly beasts," Ratchet spat in annoyance as he checked the readouts on one of the berths, "Wheeljack begged and begged me to help him with their skeletal structure. He said having earth-based Autobots would help us understand the culture better. I didn't know he was going to use his own spark to infuse them with life! They were only supposed to be drones!"

"Drones? Wait, you mean building a Cybertronian isn't enough to bring them to life?" Sparkplug asked in confusion.

"If it were that simple, then every electronic device on your planet would be alive," Ratchet pointed out, "No, most Cybertronians are either given a spark through Vector Sigma or are created through the merging of a mech and femme. Apparently though Wheeljack decided to slice up his own spark like he was a cassette carrier! I don't even know how he survived that procedure, or why he made two more when the first three almost turned evil. I'm telling you Sparkplug, as brilliant as Wheeljack is sometimes it's like having an overgrown sparkling for a colleague."

Sparkplug laughed at Ratchet's peeved expression and then climbed down from the berth. After that the alarm went off around the base to meet in the control room, and Ratchet immediately left to see what was going on.

Prowl ejected the tape and went over that conversation in his memory banks. Ratchet seemed preoccupied with the ionic destabilizer. Was he feeling guilty about potentially giving it to the Decepticons, or was it merely genuine concern? Prowl decided to go to the next tape, the one from the rec room.

There were several cameras in the rec room, and Prowl had to select which tape he wanted to see from a list. He noted that Jazz was in the rec room with Powerglide, and Powerglide was showing off a photo of his new human girlfriend Astoria. Jazz smiled and nodded, and Prowl wondered how Jazz could be so invested in such an asinine conversation.

"I'm tellin' ya, she's the biggest pain in the afterburners I've ever met, but it's nice to know someone's out there waitin' for me," Powerglide said wistfully, "Besides, I think she riles me up just so we can make up later. Humans are funny that way."

"Sounds like a real soap opera to me," Jazz commented with an easy grin.

"Yeah, it is," Powerglide replied tiredly, "You know, I'm glad I can talk to you. Not everybody understands a mech that's attracted to organics. Frankly sometimes I don't understand it myself. Still, I can't remember the last time I felt so alive! She really knows how to live on the edge, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it," Jazz nodded, though Prowl could see Jazz's visor go dim for a few seconds as he spoke to Powerglide.

The conversation continued down a mundane path until the alarm blared and they left for battle. Prowl wondered if the dimming visor really was just Jazz being bored, or if he was sending or receiving a transmission. Jazz still looked like a viable suspect, which Prowl found distressing since Jazz was his friend. He still couldn't ignore any evidence gathered however, since if Jazz turned to the Decepticons they would gather even more valuable intel.

The next tape he grabbed was from Wheeljack's lab. Oddly enough, Wheeljack wasn't in his lab for the duration of the tape. Prowl found that odd, so he searched the logs until he found Wheeljack's location; the Dinobot's lair. Prowl was relieved to find that he had a tape for the Dinobot's room in his confiscated collection, though how Red Alert got a secret camera in there Prowl wasn't sure he wanted to know. Heaving a deep intake before beginning his task, Prowl played the tape.

The tape showed the Dinobots in their beast modes roughly pushing each other around as they gathered around Wheeljack and adjusted their sleeping cushions. Wheeljack had a bucket full of small toys, and Prowl was sure this was going to reveal no useful information.

"Hurry up!" Grimlock demanded of Wheeljack.

"Yeah, we Dinobots ready for story!" Swoop squawked.

"Okay, okay, settle down," Wheeljack called for calm and rifled through the bucket of toys.

Prowl watched impassively as Wheeljack pulled out two action figures and then lifted them up so the Dinobots could see.

"Once upon a time, there were two little boys named Red Power Ranger and Blue Power Ranger," Wheeljack told his creations, "Red Power Ranger and Blue Power Ranger weren't just ordinary little boys though. They had a special destiny. They were on a quest to learn how to combine to become the most powerful defender of justice around: Power Ranger Prime!"

The Dinobots were entranced by Wheeljack's storytelling, though Prowl didn't see why. Those characters were not little boys, they did not become a Prime in the original story told about them on television, and Wheeljack's voice was excited virtually to the point of baby talk, which was distracting.

"Unfortunately, the little power rangers had to contend with the most evil force known to the universe," Wheeljack said as he dug into the bucket looking for the right toy, and then as he pulled it up he dramatically cried out, "Megatronus Barbie!"

Wheeljack had pulled out a Barbie doll was messy blonde hair and a silver dress that had been chewed up by one of the Dinobots. It was three times larger than the power rangers, so Wheeljack thought it was a fairly menacing villain for his story. Apparently the Dinobots thought so too.

"Boo, Megatronus Barbie! Boo!" Swoop hissed.

"Tear her apart, Power Rangers!" Slag cheered for the designated heroes of the story.

Wheeljack put both power rangers in one hand and the Barbie in the other, and then clanked them together to simulate a fight.

"The battle raged on for many orns!" Wheeljack exclaimed with dramatic flare, "The little power rangers fought bravely against Megatronus Barbie and her army of spark eater ninjas. The villagers could only watch and hope that the power rangers prevailed against the tyrannical femme that had held them captives for deca-orns."

Then Wheeljack's voice got deeper as he said "Your tyranny will never win, Megatronus Barbie. We fight for the freedom of all sentient beings," then in a high pitched girly voice he said, "You will never defeat me, _powerless_ rangers! I'm the baddest femme in the universe, now face my glittery doom!"

Wheeljack then pretended the Barbie shot the power rangers, and he threw away the power ranger toys and reached for another; a handmade plush of Optimus Prime.

"Everyone thought they were gone, but instead they had realized their destiny," Wheeljack staged whispered, and the Dinobots leaned in closer, "No longer were they younglings, for now they had merged into one super powerful being; Power Ranger Prime!"

"Yay!" The Dinobots all cheered.

Wheeljack then enacted another epic fight scene between the big plush toy and the chewed up Barbie doll. The Dinobots all cheered for their plush toy to kick that Barbie's glittery aft, and were surprised when the Barbie landed a blow that "knocked" the Prime down.

"And now," Wheeljack said in his girly voice, "I shall crush the spark of my most hated enemy, and then I shall rule the world! Mwahaha!"

Prowl was just as surprised as the Dinobots by this turn of events, but not even Prowl's logic calculator could have prepared him for what Wheeljack did next.

Wheeljack scooped a cardboard pizza box off the ground and in an excited voice said "Megatronus Barbie thought she had won, but she was no match for the might of Omega Supreme Pizza! Omnomnomnomnom!" Wheeljack then put the Barbie in the box and lifted the lid up and down so the pizza box could "eat" Megatronus Barbie.

"Yay!" The Dinobots cheered again.

"Me Grimlock like Omega Supreme Pizza!" Grimlock exclaimed happily.

"You Grimlock _ate_ Omega Supreme Pizza!" Slag quipped.

"Say, that reminds me," Wheeljack piped up as he put away the toys, "How are those organic matter converters working out?"

"Not good," Grimlock grumbled in discomfort, "Me Grimlock still have tank ache, ooh!"

"Oh, well let me have a look at it," Wheeljack replied worriedly, "Maybe I can fix it for you. If this works out you'll be able to eat anything on-"

Just then the alarm blared, and the Dinobots looked at Wheeljack expectantly.

"You four can come with me," Wheeljack said as he pointed to four of the Dinobots, "Grimlock, I'm afraid you have to stay here to guard the Ark. Your tank ache puts you at a disadvantage in battle."

"D'aww! Me Grimlock never get to have any fun!" Grimlock pouted.

Prowl took out the tape, feeling like he had thoroughly wasted his time watching Wheeljack play with dolls to amuse his Frankenstein's monsters. That didn't really seem like the best way to train a group of soldiers in Prowl's opinion. He would also need to inform Prime that Wheeljack was messing with the Dinobot's digestive systems...again.

Prowl then popped in the tape from the communications hub where Blaster worked, and while he wasn't sure if he would find evidence of treason he did find something almost as bad; evidence that Blaster was goofing off at work.

Blaster spent the duration of his recording talking to Beachcomber on the view screen and playing demo after demo of music they had both recorded from their respective radios. Blaster even got up and danced at one point. Then he stopped when he noticed a flashing red light.

"Oops, gotta go my mech!" Blaster informed Beachcomber, "There's a Decepticon signal at a power plant on the west coast. Catch ya later!"

Blaster then cut off his conversation and then proceeded to send a message to Optimus Prime about the Decepticon activity. Prowl noted that they could have been informed 1.4 minutes sooner if Blaster hadn't been chatting during work hours. Prowl would have to have a talk with the boombox-former about that.

His next tape was of Ironhide, who was as thoroughly uninteresting as the others. He was in the armory talking with Brawn about the best techniques for getting within close range of the Decepticons. Both mechs seemed really enthused about the idea of blasting Decepti-creeps out of the sky and grappling with them on the ground. When the alarm went off Brawn left first, and Ironhide stayed behind for an extra few minutes because he couldn't decide which cannons he wanted in his subspace. It took him 5 minutes to leave the armory after the alarm went off.

"I knew Ironhide was getting old, but this ridiculous," Prowl muttered to himself.

So far Ironhide's behavior had been commendable and completely within the realm of his ordinary character. Prowl was fairly certain that he could rule Ironhide out as a potential suspect. Well, at least that was one he could rule out, and he was grateful for that. Ironhide was Optimus Prime's oldest living friend. It would've broke Prime's spark if Ironhide had betrayed them.

Prowl then checked Perceptor's lab, but couldn't find the microscope-former. In fact, no matter where Prowl checked on the tapes he couldn't find Perceptor. Prowl then searched the logs like he did with Wheeljack, only to find that Perceptor was in the security room with Red Alert.

Prowl searched for the security room footage, only to find there was none. Prowl then hacked into live feeds to confirm or disprove a suspicion, and it was confirmed...Red Alert had no cameras installed within the sanctum of his office.

The tactician furrowed his optic ridges in frustration. It seemed he had hit a wall. He couldn't figure out whether or not Red Alert and/or Perceptor transmitted that information to the Decepticons before the mission because neither of them had been recorded then. It was strange that Perceptor would even be in the security office. There was nothing of scientific import there, and Perceptor had no personal friendship with either Red Alert or Inferno.

This evidence alone proved nothing. There were other variables regarding the stolen weapon and whoever had given the Decepticons their security codes. With what Prowl had though, he had three major persons of interest: Jazz, Perceptor, and Red Alert.


	3. Suspicions

_Author's Notes: Thank you all for coming back to see this story! I had fun writing this chapter. I experimented with transitional scene breaks and I like the way it turned out. This fanfic has actually had consistent updates, if you can believe that. I don't want "Reinvent Yourself" to become another idea that takes a year to update, and hopefully it won't. So far updates have been frequent, so yay! Thank you for reading, and thank you to those who have submitted your theories on the case. I love reading them :)_

* * *

Chapter 3

Suspicions

Optimus Prime needed more troops to go with him to reclaim the ionic destabilizer from the Decepticons. He trusted that Inferno, Hound, and Trailbreaker were capable mechs, but the plan to retrieve the device required more Autobots. Hound was going to sneak aboard the Nemesis to get the destabilizer back, but they would need a distraction. Good as Inferno and Trailbreaker were at fighting Decepticons, they weren't very distracting.

Prowl couldn't let too many 'Bots off the hook, otherwise the suspect(s) would knows that Prowl was onto them. Ultimately he decided to allow Ironhide to go since he was the only senior officer with a less than 1.00001 percent likelihood of betrayal, as well as Seaspray since the Nemesis was underwater and they would need a boat-former. Prowl also sent Prime two flying mechs, Swoop and Cosmos. Flying types made for good distractions and neither one had the means to turn traitor on the Autobots.

With the mission underway, that left most of the Autobots in the Ark alone with Prowl and their own thoughts.

Many mechs looked at everyone else with suspicion, wondering if the traitor was among them right then. The conspiracy theories among those so inclined were becoming more and more outrageous as the hours ticked by.

Cliffjumper was convinced that Mirage had been a double agent even before they left Cybertron, and he made that opinion known to anyone who would listen. Red Alert said that there was no traitor and the whole thing was a plot to undermine his authority as security chief. Smokescreen elaborated on Red Alert's theory and speculated that there was no leak in information at all, and that Prowl was working for the Decepticons by using the investigation to foster resentment and distrust among the 'Bots. Perceptor's ideas became both more annoying and more terrifying as he tried to solve the case before Prowl could.

As all of this craziness unfolded Prowl could see that he would have to speed up his efforts if he was to keep order among their ranks. Video footage offered a few clues, but nothing he could piece together. If he was going to get to the bottom of this he would have to question the suspects personally.

The first suspect he wanted to get out of the way was Perceptor. That microscope-former was driving everyone nuts with his theories and hypotheses. Not to mention Prowl had a few questions for him regarding his trip to Red Alert's office the other day. He was sure something was going on.

"You wanted to see me, Prowl?" Perceptor asked cordially as he took a seat in Prowl's office.

"Yes, Perceptor," Prowl nodded calmly, "I would like to ask you a few questions about your activities on the day of our last battle with the Decepticons."

"Of course, I'm happy to help," Perceptor smiled, seeming perfectly at ease and unaware of Prowl's suspicions.

"According to the logs you went to Red Alert's monitoring station," Prowl reminded him, "I want to know why you were there."

"Oh my, well it's actually a funny story," Perceptor replied almost bashfully, "It all started when I noticed one of my lenses had gone missing from my workstation. I have several high powered lenses that allow me to see at different rates of zoom and clarity. Well, I distinctly recalled leaving my lens on the table, but it wasn't there when I went to retrieve it. So I assumed the lens had been stolen. I went to Red Alert's office to file a report and ask him if perhaps he had caught the crook on the security feed."

"And had he?" Prowl asked abruptly.

"Well, um...yes and no," Perceptor winced, "The lens was taken from the table, but it wasn't with any sort of malicious intent. The Dinobot Swoop had wandered in, seen my shiny lens, and became enraptured by the way the light played off its surface. He walked away with it not realizing what he had. Swoop had accidentally broken the lens and I do admit to being a bit livid with him, but we eventually apologized to each other and Wheeljack carved me a new lens. All was well, no harm done. Why do you ask?"

"I will ask the questions, Perceptor," Prowl replied coldly; not allowing himself to be distracted by Perceptor's charming demeanor, "Next question, why did you spread the rumor that Blaster was my main suspect?"

"I never said that in so many words," Perceptor defended himself, "However one must admit to the skill required for the crime and Blaster's ability to pull it off. Of course I don't think he did it, not really. Blaster is young and has a bit of wild streak it's true, but he's a good Autobot with a family of 4 cassettes to provide for. He would never sell out their futures for anything Megatron could offer him. I must say though that Cliffjumper's theory about Mirage does hold some merit."

"Don't change the subject," Prowl warned him, "If I asked Red Alert about this story, he would corroborate it?"

"I suppose," Perceptor replied noncommittally, "Assuming he didn't do it. I mean, I'm not really sure how much we can trust someone that clearly does not trust us. I do hope I don't sound like an instigator with all this speculation but I, like you, do not like uncertainty in my life. I just want to figure out what's going on."

"I see," Prowl replied neutrally, but then asked, "And you have no vested interest in being on Megatron's good side? I mean, you seemed perfectly willing to cure his cosmic rust a few months back, even though it meant sacrificing a chemical substance you created using a very rare mineral compound. Years of research down the drain, all to benefit Megatron."

"Now that's not fair!" Perceptor shouted as he angrily rose from his seat; finally showing some confrontational emotion, "Megatron offered a peace treaty in exchange for that cure! I thought treating him would end the war. Even though it failed, I had to try. Do you have _any idea_ what this conflict has done to me!? I don't recharge without nightmares anymore. I have weapons installed that remind me more of cancerous growths than any sort of comfort. I was never made for this, Prowl! I'm a biologist, not a soldier! For crying out loud, I get sent to the front line more often than Omega Supreme! Where is the justice in that!?"

"Do you resent Optimus Prime for his decision to include you in these battles?" Prowl asked pointedly, "Do you believe the Decepticons would treat you better? Keep their word to protect you even though they have broken their word before?"

"They have offered me no such thing, and I would not take it even if they did," Perceptor replied vehemently, "I know what they are, Prowl. I know the ruthlessness and ugliness of the Decepticons. Please believe me, I would never betray our brethren for any temporary relief. I mean that."

Prowl leaned back in his chair, and Perceptor wondered if the tactician would finally let him leave, but his hopes were dashed when Prowl said, "Tell me everything you know about Red Alert..."

* * *

Hound was on high alert as he waited for the signal from the others that it was go time. He and Seaspray were going to infiltrate the Decepticon ship as soon as the 'Cons flew out to deal with the supposed Autobot invasion. Optimus Prime and his team were ready to act as the distractions, and Hound and Seaspray could only hope that this part of the plan didn't fail. Everything hinged on getting as many Decepticons out of the ship as possible, and Hound was nervous.

/Hound, Seaspray, we are in position,/ Optimus Prime said over the comm.

/This is Hound. We're ready to go,/ Hound replied as he allowed to tension to guide his body toward action rather than inaction, /As soon as that ship comes up out of the water, we're going in./

Just then the distraction team saw three seekers flying overhead on patrol across the Pacific Ocean. The Autobots, who were positioned on a sandbar, had been waiting for this. Optimus Prime turned to his mechs and nodded that it was go time, and their weapons were taken out of subspace.

"Fire!" Optimus commanded, and the Autobots started shooting at the Decepticons.

"What the-!?" Starscream screeched, and his trine brothers broke off formation from him to dive down toward the Autobots, "Attack!" Starscream ordered uselessly.

Just as the seekers flew toward the Autobots to send cluster bombs their way, Cosmos and Swoop transformed into vehicle and pterodactyl mode to intercept the trine. Skywarp teleported away from Swoop's fire breath, and Thundercracker dodged Cosmos's laser fire.

/Megatron!/ Starscream screeched into the comm system, /Autobots have been spotted! We need reinforcements!/

/Can't handle it yourself, Starscream?/ Megatron asked mockingly.

/Optimus Prime is among them, you dolt! I need help!/ Starscream griped.

/With that attitude? You're lucky I enjoy fighting Prime or I'd leave you for scrap,/ Megatron growled.

Megatron then cut off the comm, and Starscream flew toward his original targets: the Autobots that were stuck on the ground. He fired his blaster on them, but Trailbreaker's forcefield prevented Starscream's shots from damaging anyone. He knew he could keep it up for about ten minutes, but also knew that was a bad idea. As long as his forcefield was up they couldn't fire on the 'Cons, and that would make Ironhide mad.

Up in the air Skywarp and Thundercracker were attacking, but oddly enough they didn't split their targets up evenly. Instead they were both ganging up on Cosmos, as if the young Dinobot didn't even exist! Swoop dove down and tried to use his fire breath on the 'Cons, but they were so close to Cosmos that Swoop had to be careful. He could accidentally hurt Cosmos if he was too reckless with his fire.

Cosmos wasn't sure how much longer he could maintain altitude. Fortunately his armor was exceptionally thick for reentry purposes, but Thundercracker's sonic booms were enough to rattle even Cosmos' thick hide. He could see Swoop trying to help, but the seekers were too fast for Swoop to get his claws into and too close for Swoop to use his fire breath on. Swoop tried to use his blasters, but his aim was terrible. He wasn't a blunt force fighter like his brothers, and wasn't as effective without them.

Suddenly there were ripples in the water as the ocean gave way for the purple spire of the Nemesis docking bay. The hangar opened to spit out nearly a dozen Decepticons, and Hound and Seaspray knew this was their chance. Hound used his hologram projector to make him and Seaspray look like two Reflectors, and then they casually walked in just as the door was closing. They made it in without a fuss, and both heaved an intake of relief that no one was there to greet them.

The pair of infiltrators roamed the Nemesis searching for a map or something that would let them know where the ionic destabilizer was. Neither one was used to the ship so it was easy to get lost. The halls were all the same and wound around dozens of times like a maze. It was intentional so that only Decepticons would actually know where they were going on the ship.

"You know, for something cobbled together in a hurry, this ship is designed pretty well," Seaspray commented in his typical garbled voice.

"Don't talk like that," Hound whispered to Seaspray, "If Prowl heard that he'd think you were the traitor. That investigation back on the Ark has got everybody spooked. I tell you, things haven't been this tense since the slaughter of Simfur."

"The what of where?" Seaspray asked.

"Simfur was during the early days of the war," Hound explained quietly so that no one else would hear them as they walked and talked, "Megatron had destroyed Praxus and the council sent some of the most innovative minds of Iacon there to hide. They were supposed to be protected until the Decepticons were dealt with, but Megatron considered them a threat since they could build weapons for the Autobots. Once a Decepticon envoy had found them, it was over. The scientists, medics, engineers, and educators in that so-called safe zone had no means to defend themselves beyond the secrecy of their location. They were butchered by the Decepticons, one by one killed in a hail of bombs and blades. Only one scientist survived to tell the tale of that fateful day. Over 100 of Iacon's most brilliant minds were killed."

"Who survived?" Seaspray asked apprehensively, hoping it was no one they knew.

Hound was about to answer, but then a bolt of light whizzed by Hound's helm! He turned to see Dead End standing in their path, his blaster trained on them.

"Nice try, but Reflector is in the brig," Dead End said, his calm words in stark contrast to his battle stance and blaster pointing at them, "Now, who are you and what do you want?"

Realizing the jig was up, Hound deactivated the hologram, revealing him and Seaspray to the maroon colored Decepticon.

"Autobots, how droll," Dead End purred, "Let me guess, you want to steal our new toy, don't you? Well, you can't have it. Wildrider! Drag Strip!"

Hound and Seaspray lifted their weapons toward Dead End, and they saw Drag Strip show up behind Dead End, but they didn't see Wildrider. Their unspoken question was answered however when two large grey hands were clamped onto each of their shoulders.

"Hello, boys! Hehehehehe!"

* * *

"Hello, Jazz," Prowl greeted his friend almost sadly as he stopped the special ops agent in the hall.

"What's up, my mech?" Jazz asked jovially, "You still workin' on the case?"

"You know I am, and you know what I want," Prowl replied in a no-nonsense manner, "Come with me."

Jazz knew this was coming, so he didn't object to Prowl's order. He walked with Prowl in silence until they made it to Prowl's office. The room was quiet, so quiet that when Jazz pulled out his chair the screech sounded like tires squealing on gravel. Jazz sat down, and Prowl steepled his fingers on his desk and looked at his friend with impassive blue optics.

"Jazz, I need to ask you about the day the ionic destabilizer was stolen," Prowl told him without preamble, "I looked into the security footage from that day, and you were speaking with Powerglide."

"Was I? I couldn't remember," Jazz replied casually, "I talk to so many 'Bots around here that it all runs together sometimes."

"He was discussing his human girlfriend," Prowl reminded him.

"Oh yeah, that," Jazz replied unenthusiastically, "Listen Prowl, I love Powerglide, I really do, but it's hard to get a word in edgewise with him. All he wants to do is talk about himself, his flying skill, his love life, and then himself some more. Um, is this on the record by the way? I don't want him to hear that."

"He won't," Prowl assured him with a smile that didn't quite reach his optics, "Now, during the conversation your visor dimmed several times. I want to hear your side of the story. Why did your visor dim?"

"There's no story to it. I was bored," Jazz replied candidly, "I was close to goin' into recharge but I didn't wanna be rude by gettin' up to leave. Was it really obvious I was goin' into recharge? I hope he wasn't offended."

"It wasn't obvious," Prowl assured him, "I assumed you were receiving a comm transmission, to be honest."

"Nah, I wish. Then I would've had an excuse to leave," Jazz chuckled, "Powerglide ain't a suspect, right? I mean, I know he's a blowhard and a blabbermouth, but he's as true an Autobot as anyone here. After all, it ain't easy bein' a flyer in the Autobots, when most of 'em joined the 'Cons. I don't know how mechs like Powerglide and Skyfire do it. Then again Skyfire don't do it too well. Percy tells me Skyfire don't like to share his projects with no one, not even the other scientists. I don't know how Percy and Wheeljack work with someone like that. Makes me wish there was somethin' I could do to cheer the poor guy up."

"Powerglide is not a suspect," Prowl replied coolly, "Jazz, would you be willing to submit your comm logs to me for inspection? And I mean _all_ of your comm logs, not just a filtered version of what you want me to see."

"Oh, um, sure mech. No problem," Jazz replied, looking a little caught off guard, "So, I guess I was right."

"Right about what?" Prowl asked.

"You do suspect me of somethin'," Jazz replied, sounding hurt, "I get it, Prowler. You have to check everyone. Still though, it don't feel good to be accused of somethin' just because of your job. I know I'm privy to a lot of sensitive information, and that can make me look scary to people when times get tough. I just hope you don't actually think I did it because even though I like everybody on the ship...you're my best friend. You've never judged me, and you understand better than most the dangers that come with bein' one of Prime's top officers."

Prowl wanted to sigh, wanted to groan, and wanted to reassure Jazz that they were still friends. He couldn't do that however. Not right now. Right now he needed to check Jazz's comm history and make sure his friend wasn't the culprit.

"Open your port, Jazz," Prowl ordered joylessly.

Jazz gave the mental command and the access port at the back of his neck gave way for Prowl to access it. Prowl then walked up and slid a chord from his wrist into Jazz's neck...

* * *

Hound at a gun pointed to the back of his neck. Drag Strip kept guard over Hound and Wildrider kept guard over Seaspray, also at gunpoint. Dead End led the group to the brig so that they would be unable to escape whatever punishment Megatron had in store for them.

Both Autobots tried to contact their teammates, but their comms didn't work within the confines of the Nemesis. No Autobot frequency could get through, which meant they were trapped and therefore unable to get the WMD out of Decepticon HQ.

"I'm not surprised you tried to retake your weapon," Dead End commented dryly as they continued to march, "After all, it's a gorgeous piece of machinery. Such power, and such potential for destruction. It would be such an absolute way to die, though admittedly not my first choice. It disintegrates the body, and I want to leave my body behind when I go. Some tangible reminder to the universe that I was here, at least for a little while."

Hound didn't reply, and neither did Seaspray. They didn't want to make conversation with their captor, and that seemed to suit Dead End just fine. He enjoyed monologuing about the futility of life and the inevitability of death. Hound silently wondered how such a depressing being could even exist. There was so much beauty and joy in life. Why would anyone fetishize its end?

They made it as far as the entrance to the brig, but then something strange happened to Drag Strip...he started to fly! Now, everyone knew Decepticons could fly, but this didn't look right. Drag Strip was screaming as he flailed his arms and legs in the air while he was flying in the hallway. Then, just as suddenly, Drag Strip flew against the wall and was knocked out cold.

"Ooh, I wanna try that!" Wildrider shouted excitedly.

Wildrider then flew into the wall and knocked himself out, leaving only Dead End and the Autobots.

Dead End knew by now that something odd was going on, so he lifted his gun and pointed it in random directions as he searched for the anomaly. It didn't help though, as his gun was suddenly taken from him and then fired at his legs! Dead End crumpled to the ground, and then the butt of the gun was banged against Dead End's helm; knowing him out just like the others.

Hound and Seaspray looked on in shock, but then it all became clear when a certain blue and white mech materialized in front of them.

"Mirage! You were supposed to be in the Ark!" Hound exclaimed in surprise.

"What, and stick around to get grilled by Sherlock Prowl? No thank you!" Mirage scoffed, "Besides, you guys need me. No need to thank me."

"We should turn you in, you pompous aft," Seaspray groused playfully, "Come on, let's go get the ion thingy!"

* * *

"Let go of me!" Starscream cried out as Ironhide pulled his legs and Inferno pulled his arms.

"Make a wish, Decepti-creep!" Ironhide joked as he pulled harder.

" _Yaaaah_! You Autobozos will _pay_ for this indignity!" Starscreamer vowed angrily.

"Not until you _say it_ ~" Inferno replied in a sing-song voice.

"Never!" Starscream shrieked as he tried to free himself from the red warriors.

The two Autobots simply replied to this by playing tug-of-war with the irate seeker commander.

"Okay, okay!" Starscream finally relented, "I'll say it...I'm a sparkling."

"And?" Ironhide pressed.

"And Megatron kisses all my booboos," Starscream ground out reluctantly.

"And?" Inferno prodded.

"And my favorite color is pink," Starscream spat with contempt.

With those words the Autobots dropped Starscream ingloriously on the sandbar, and he transformed and flew away before they could change their processors and grab him again.

"Hah hah hah!" Ironhide laughed heartily, "I can't believe that worked! I'll have to thank Sideswipe next time I see him for that great idea!"

"Yeah, I can't wait to show Red my recording of that!" Inferno guffawed.

Just then a winged shadow fell over the duo and they feared it was a Decepticon come for revenge. Optimus and the others had been fighting off Megatron and his hordes, and most had been driven back, but there were still a couple that lingered. Just as Ironhide raised his cannon however he could see that it was in fact Swoop, and he was transforming for a landing in robot mode.

"Ironhide! Inferno!" Swoop hollered desperately, "Help! Him Cosmos hurt! Help!"

Ironhide gasped, but didn't waste any time as he started running to follow the Dinobot; Inferno close behind. Just as they got to Cosmos the last Decepticon had retreated, and Optimus and Trailbreaker were already by Cosmos' side. Trailbreaker was applying pressure to Cosmos' wound, but they needed a medic. Inferno wasn't licensed, but he knew enough about field repairs to solder a few fuel lines without igniting the patient's energon.

"So many Decepticons!" Swoop wailed hysterically as Inferno knelt beside Cosmos and Trailbreaker to offer assistance, "Them Decepticons gang up on him Cosmos. Me Swoop try to stop them, but they too fast and him Cosmos too close! Me Swoop sorry! Help him Cosmos! Him hero..."

Swoop continued to yell and cry while the others tried to remain calm. Cosmos' spark signature was weak from the battering he had taken during his assault. Inferno welded line after line while Trailbreaker and Ironhide kept a lookout for Decepticons. Optimus had called for Skyfire since they would need a ride home, and had transformed into truck mode so Cosmos could ride in his trailer for extra protection. Cosmos remained unconscious as Ironhide lifted him into Optimus' cargo hold, and Swoop never stopped babbling and screaming.

Finally, after Cosmos was secure and out of sight, Swoop seemed to calm down. The others were grateful Swoop was quiet, but no one knew how to comfort a Dinobot. As he sat on the sandbar in his robot mode looking out at the water, he just looked so lost and shaken, yet he didn't have a scratch on him.

Soon the 'Bots heard a motor in the distance, and they saw three of their mechs returning with the ionic destabilizer; a device about the size of a minibot and made of ordinary grey metal with colorful buttons on the console area.

"Mirage?" Ironhide exclaimed accusingly, "What are _you_ doin' here?"

"Saving our skid plates," Hound replied for him, "Nobody saw us leave Prime, but the Stunticons know we were in there. We don't have long before they wake up."

"Skyfire will be by to pick us up shortly," Optimus replied, "Cosmos has been injured, and we need to get him to the medbay as quickly as possible."

"Them Decepticons too fast..." Swoop muttered slowly; sounding completely spent.

"What's wrong with him?" Seaspray asked; still in his boat mode.

"Swoop tried to protect Cosmos, but the Decepticons ganged up on them," Inferno explained, "For whatever reason they only wanted to hurt Cosmos. We can't figure out why though."

* * *

"I can't figure out why though," Prowl mused to Jazz, "Why would anyone want to give Megatron a weapon that could destroy entire worlds?"

"Beats the frag outta me," Jazz shrugged, "Come on, mech. You searched my comm codes, my computer history, and even the email address I use for fan mail! You've gotta know I'm innocent by now!"

"The likelihood that you are the traitor is down to 7.5 percent, but that still isn't zero," Prowl replied, "I am inclined to believe it unlikely you are the mole, but I still need to figure out a motive. In your case the motive is unclear, so I ask you again, if you were to switch sides, why would you do it?"

"I wouldn't," Jazz replied adamantly, "The Decepticons eat slag, and no matter how good things look for them right now I know the Autobots are gonna pull through."

"No matter how good things look for them," Prowl repeated, "In other words, the Decepticons appear to be winning the war. There are more Decepticons in existence than Autobots, and they control Cybertron. So, missing home and believing yourself to be on the losing side of the war would be a motive for betrayal."

"Not for me," Jazz replied as he crossed his arms over his chassis, "The 'Cons are evil, and it don't matter what Megatron promises his people. He's only gonna bring them more misery and regret. Prowl, I swear on my spark I didn't do it."

"Though the motive still works," Prowl pointed out, "Whether it be you or someone else, the motive still fits. It would have to be someone who believes the Decepticons are going to win, and by winning they would kill every Autobot left alive. Jazz, I believe you. I think you're innocent."

"Thank you, Prowler," Jazz replied sincerely, "So, who are you gonna talk to next?"

"I have two suspects lined up next, Red Alert and Blaster," Prowl replied.

"Why them?" Jazz asked.

"I cannot divulge that information," Prowl replied apologetically, "Jazz, go somewhere and get some rest. You've been in here a while, and I know this is a stressful situation for all of us. I'm sorry this took so long, but I had to be reasonably certain of either your innocence or guilt before I released you. I'm still not 100 percent certain, but you and I have been friends a long time. I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. See you later, Jazz."

"See ya 'round, Prowler," Jazz waved amiably before he left.

Prowl sat down heavily in his chair and sighed as he thought over this new angle. If someone believed the Autobots were doomed, then they might want to jump ship before things got bad. For Red Alert it would make sense because his entire life revolved around fear. Unfortunately it would make sense for Blaster as well. Like Perceptor said, he was a family mech. He had three young cassettes that wouldn't be able to defend themselves against the Decepticons without him. He might consider the Decepticons a safer option than the Autobots now.

Then there was Perceptor. He could be innocent, but there was something cagey about him in Prowl's opinion. Was he really just weird, or was he hiding something? Whoever the traitor was they were hiding in plain sight. Prowl couldn't let them get away, because if they were willing to give so dangerous a weapon to the Decepticons then they had no qualms about handing over their alleged friends and comrades to Megatron. Prowl felt like he was running out of time. He had to figure out who the mole was and fast.


	4. Security Measures

_Author's Notes: Work has kept me busy lately, so this update is a couple days off schedule. I couldn't let this fic linger too long however because it is a mystery, and those types of stories have the highest level of reader participation. I only hope I can keep my future updates from taking too long. Thank you for patiently waiting, and I hope you enjoy chapter 4 of "Reinvent Yourself" :)_

* * *

Chapter 4

Security Measures

Prowl had two suspects left to question, Red Alert and Blaster. At the very least, they were his only two suspects for the moment. He thought about it and decided that Red Alert should be the first one he interrogated, because if Red Alert suspected he was going to be arrested he would escape the Ark before anyone knew he was missing. Prowl gathered as much info as he could, but it wasn't easy when the security cameras caught everyone's actions except Red's.

Prowl went to the security office directly rather than call Red Alert to his office because this Autobot was a flight risk. It seemed pathetic to not even trust a comrade to come to a meeting when called, but Prowl knew trust was not a luxury that could be afforded at the moment.

When Prowl entered the monitor room Red Alert and Inferno were at their stations chatting and watching the screens, blissfully unaware Prowl had entered.

"Red Alert," Prowl announced himself.

"Yah!" Red Alert yelped and jumped behind his chair, fearing it was an intruder, "Oh, it's just you, Prowl. To what do I owe the visit?" Red said in an effort to regain his composure.

"Inferno, could you assist Ironhide with some drills he is running in the training room?" Prowl requested (ordered), "I need to speak to Red Alert alone for a moment about a security matter."

"Oh, uh, sure thing Prowl," Inferno stammered as he scooted around Prowl to get out the door, "Uh, hope everythin' is okay."

Prowl didn't reply, but his glare said it all. _Leave_. _Now_. Inferno took the hint and soon Prowl was alone with his suspect.

"Finally!" Red Alert exclaimed, much to Prowl's surprise, "I knew you would come around eventually. Couldn't solve the case without me, huh? Well don't worry. I forgive you, and I am happy to help catch the culprit. So, what clues do we have so far?"

"I wanted to discuss a particular suspect that has displayed behavior conducive to hiding Decepticon activity," Prowl replied vaguely, "There is an Autobot around here that has evaded our security cameras on a regular basis, and in fact believes that he should not be monitored at all. He believes himself to be above the law, and therefore has made himself appear suspicious."

"It's Mirage, isn't it?" Red alert scoffed, not taking the hint, "I knew that shifty noble was up to something."

"My question is, what should I do about a mech that refuses to have security cameras installed in his work station?" Prowl asked.

"I say install them anyway!" Red Alert firmly declared, "No one escapes the vigilant watch of security! I'll even help you restrain the mech if he refuses."

"That won't be necessary," Prowl replied, "I was talking about you."

"Huh?" Red Alert squeaked, his voice suddenly very small, "Me?" He pointed to himself.

"Yes Red Alert, you," Prowl replied with the patience of a parent, "You could have been either exonerated or convicted based off evidence of where you were on the day of the theft, but without video evidence I have no way of verifying your location. So, first you will tell me who if anyone you were with on that day, and then we will install the new security cameras in your office."

"You'll be watching me?" Red Alert asked, still in shock.

"Yes," Prowl nodded, "It's for the good of the Autobots."

Red Alert slumped in defeat. He hated being watched, but Prowl had a point. How could he impose such a lack of privacy on the other Autobots and expect to be immune to it himself? Red Alert sighed and sat back down in his chair, with Prowl taking Inferno's chair and turning it to face Red Alert.

"Now, where were you on the day the ionic destabilizer was stolen?" Prowl asked straightforwardly.

"The ionic destabilizer? _That's_ what this is about?" Red Alert asked in relief, "I can account for that. I was searching for the culprit that had stolen Perceptor's microscope lens. It turned out to be one of those miscreant Dinobots. Honestly, those things should've been deactivated the day they were built. Do you know how many calls I get about those filthy things every day? Yesterday Ratchet called me to say the Dinobots were fighting in his medbay over one of his tools. Last week you yourself called me to say Sludge had chewed up one of your spare tires! The twins got mauled by Slag and Grimlock two weeks ago. The mayor of Central City even complained after one of our fights with the Decepticons that Snarl was taking a nap on the freeway! Not to mention that time when Grimlock broke my monitors after-"

"Red Alert, you're getting off topic," Prowl cut him off, "Now, I have interviewed Perceptor and he gave me the same story. Is there anyone else that will vouch for your version of events?"

"Of course, the Dinobot," Red Alert shrugged as if it should have been obvious, "He was found out that same day and had broken the lens, _surprise surprise_! Just ask him, assuming he has the processor capability to remember anything from more than two astro-seconds ago, and he'll tell you I was right here chasing after him along with that limp chord Perceptor. Now, may I get back to work? Every second I am away from those monitors is a second the twins could use to paint your office pink."

Prowl had to concede that point, and allowed the matter to drop for the moment. He still wasn't completely sure Red Alert wasn't a suspect however. For all he knew Red Alert and Perceptor could be working together for the Decepticons. Prowl's next move was obvious. He would have to talk to Swoop.

* * *

When Prowl asked where Swoop was he was directed to the medbay. That surprised Prowl since he had heard Swoop made it out of the last battle without a scratch. As he entered the room however it soon became clear that Swoop wasn't there for his own injuries.

Cosmos was in critical condition after the fight against the seekers. Ratchet was still working on him, and Swoop was sitting in a chair watching Cosmos as he was being repaired. The chair was clearly minibot sized, which made it look especially uncomfortable to see Swoop's long legs scrunched close to his hunched body. The young pterosaur was the picture of misery as he watched the surgery taking place before him.

"Swoop," Prowl called out softly, trying to sound sympathetic to the Dinobot's situation, "Cosmos will most likely pull through. There is only a 14.7 percent chance of Cosmos dying from his injuries."

"Me Swoop helpless," Swoop rasped tiredly; having worn out his vocalizer from crying hours ago, "Him Cosmos hurt, and me Swoop no can do anything. Why them Decepticons hurt him Cosmos? Me Swoop was ready for fight, but no fight come. Me Swoop useless. Him Cosmos hurt because we wait too long."

"Swoop, I know this is a difficult time right now, but I have to ask you a few questions," Prowl said regretfully as he put his servo on Swoop's shoulder, "I need to know what you remember about the day the ionic destabilizer was stolen."

"Him Cosmos get hurt," Swoop replied hollowly, too tired to even be upset at the moment.

"No, not then. I mean when the Decepticons stole it from us," Prowl replied patiently, "Do you remember what you were doing?"

"Uh...Me here, not there," Swoop pointed out in confusion.

"I know, but what did you do here? Who did you see?" Prowl asked as if he were speaking to a traumatized child, which technically he was.

"Me see him Perceptor," Swoop recalled, "And him Red Alert. And him Skyfire. Him Perceptor and him Red Alert yell at me Swoop. Me Swoop did a bad thing. Broke a shiny. Him Skyfire say nothing. Him not even look at me Swoop. Then me Swoop go back to cave and wait for brothers to return from fight. Then brothers return from fight. They win, but him Wheeljack's thingy stolen by Decepticons. Him Grimlock angry he lose the thing, but him Wheeljack not yell. Me Swoop wish shiny belonged to him Wheeljack. Him Wheeljack not yell when things break."

Swoop then lowered his helm to his knees and heaved a massive intake of air. It seemed like even talking was wearing him out after the day they had. He had worried so much about Cosmos, but after the excitement was over his systems felt like they crashed.

"So Red Alert and Perceptor were with you," Prowl prodded, "For how long?"

"Long enough to yell," Swoop shrugged lazily, "Prowl, what you do when bad things happen?"

"I work," Prowl replied honestly, "When I feel like everything is falling apart and nothing makes sense I find something that requires my attention and I work. My job keeps the Ark safe, even if it doesn't always involve brute force. Just find a project to keep yourself busy, and when Cosmos wakes up visit him then. I'm certain he will appreciate your concern."

"Thank you Prowl," Swoop replied with a nod, "You Prowl give me Swoop a lot to think about."

"Not a problem. Sorry to bother you," Prowl replied before turning to leave.

Swoop watched Prowl go and thought about what he said. Prowl did work to make the Ark safer. He did work that he felt the others needed. Swoop tried to think of what he could do to keep himself busy, and he realized his only job was beating up Decepticons. He needed a job that would accomplish something even when there were no Decepticons to fight, but what?

As Swoop turned to watch Ratchet working on Cosmos it suddenly hit him. Ratchet's work was always important, because he saved lives. If Swoop had been smart enough to save Cosmos himself he wouldn't have to sit there and watch his friend suffer. If Swoop was a medic then he could always have a place with the team, even without Decepticon to fight. That was the solution. He needed to be a medic!

* * *

Prowl hadn't crossed off Red Alert and Perceptor just yet, but at least he knew they could account for part of their time that day. He still needed to interrogate Blaster, but Prowl felt like he was on a trail and didn't want to stop sniffing until he was sure there was nothing left to know.

Prowl logged in every detail of the accounts he found, and the times all seemed to add up. Red Alert and Perceptor both seemed on edge, but that in itself wasn't proof of their guilt. Besides, Red Alert called on Swoop as a witness. Red Alert hated the Dinobots, so why would he trust one to cover for him? Then again, everyone knew the Dinobots were lousy time keepers. Perhaps Red Alert wanted a witness that couldn't tell Prowl if the time between the lens investigation and the stealing of the destabilizer didn't add up.

Then Prowl noticed that Swoop had given Prowl another lead: Skyfire. Skyfire had also seen the confrontation between Red Alert, Perceptor, and Swoop. Skyfire was also very intelligent and very precise in his routine, so he would know the exact time spent in the lab at that moment.

Prowl almost went to Skyfire to ask about this, but then stopped himself at the door to his office. Skyfire was a former friend of Starscream. Could Prowl trust the testimony of someone with personal ties to the Decepticon's SIC? Pit, at one point for a brief time Skyfire had _been_ a Decepticon! If his clearance was high enough he would be a suspect, and Swoop had mentioned that Skyfire had been unwilling to look at him. Was there something for Skyfire to feel guilty about? Was he capable, both technically and emotionally, of betraying his teammates?

Prowl paced his office and thought. There were so many questions, and this investigation threatened to go off the rails. He knew he was missing something crucial, but what? Could one of the lower officers have hacked into the war room and stolen the passcode to the ionic destabilizer? It seemed unlikely, but now Prowl wondered if his tunnel vision had forced him to overlook other suspects.

Prowl's thoughts were interrupted by an alarm going off on his private feedback terminal. This personal scanner searched for encrypted communications coming from or being sent to Decepticon signals. Prowl couldn't believe his luck as he eyed the screen on the scanner. The little yellow dot indicating the origin of communication pointed to a supply closet on the main level. Someone was calling Megatron right at that very moment!

Turning on the cameras, Prowl was dismayed to find the camera had been disabled. So, the perpetrator knew about the cameras installed all over the Ark. This was most likely the mole. Prowl would have to get there fast to catch the traitor in the act.

Prowl ran out of his office and transformed into Datsun mode. He drove down the halls at a fast pace, but resisted the temptation to turn his sirens on. That would only alert his prey that he was coming. He had to take an elevator to the main level, which ate up time, but Prowl was sure he could still catch the crook. He only hoped when he got there he wouldn't have to confront Jazz or Ironhide. Jazz because he was a friend, and Ironhide because it would result in a shootout.

Prowl got out of the elevator and stopped at the closet door just as it was opening, and the cop car transformed into robot mode and held up his pistol. The unsuspecting suspect walked out, and Prowl was only slightly surprised to see it was Mirage.

"Stop!" Prowl ordered, and Mirage looked at him in shock and apprehension, "Stay where you are. You are being placed in the brig under suspicion of treason."

" _Treason_?" Mirage asked in offense, "You mean the investigation that has practically shut down this ship? What does any of that have to do with me?"

"Don't play dumb, Mirage," Prowl replied sternly, "My scanners picked up your transmission. I know you contacted the Decepticons just now. What did you say to them?"

"The Decepticons? That's insane!" Mirage shouted defiantly, "I'm no traitor! Did Cliffjumper put you up to this?"

"Mirage, you can come with me peacefully or you can struggle. Either way you are going to the brig," Prowl informed him stonily.

"Come on, Prowl. You know me. I'm innocent," Mirage insisted, "Why would I lie to you? Why would I betray my own people? I have nothing to gain!"

Prowl didn't listen, however. He forced Mirage back against the wall and cuffed him, much to the protest of the suspect. Mirage swore up and down he didn't do anything, but Prowl knew there was no way to fake a transmission like that. He had his first suspect, but the question in his processor as he took Mirage to the brig was whether or not Mirage was the only mole. Was this bigger than Mirage, or had Prowl managed to get to the bottom of the case without even trying?

As Prowl's and Mirage's footsteps receded into the bowels of the Ark, the supply closet door opened again and another mech came out. He looked in the direction where Mirage and Prowl had left, and he sighed wearily. He didn't like the fact that Mirage had just taken the fall, but he couldn't let his secret be revealed. At least now Prowl would end the investigation and stop looking for him.


	5. Scared Crooked

_Author's Notes: I was afraid I wouldn't get this chapter out this week, but I somehow managed to work past the interruptions to get this thing finished. Yay! I'm happy with how this chapter turned out, and hopefully you guys like it too. Sorry I haven't been posting as much as I used to. Work has been rough. Anyway, thank you for reading, reviewing, and following :)_

* * *

Chapter 5

Scared Crooked

"I told you already Prowl, _I don't know_!" Mirage screamed in frustration at the mech that was interrogating him, "You have the wrong guy! I didn't send a transmission to the Decepticons and I don't know who did."

"Part of your story makes sense," Prowl conceded as he steepled his digits over the table, "I don't think you have the processor to coordinate the theft of our most valuable weapon by yourself. You would have to get past the medbay, Wheeljack's lab, and the security vault to get to the ionic destabilizer. I think you were working for someone else on board the Ark, someone with a greater motive than yours and a plan that was completely idiot proof. Lucky for him, too."

Mirage fumed from his side of the table. He couldn't believe he had been let out of his cell just to sit at a table for hours in a small secluded room staring at Prowl's cold blue optics and answering the same questions over and over again.

"Did I hit a sore spot?" Prowl asked with insincere concern, "I apologize. Perhaps you _are_ just an ignorant unwitting pawn in another mech's bigger game."

"I know what you're trying to do," Mirage hissed through gritted denta, "You still think I did it and you want to bruise my ego to get me to talk. I've used the same technique before on Decepticon prisoners. Prowl, why can't you just believe me on this? I'm innocent! I am not covering up for anyone and I have no reason to lie. I would never betray my own people, so please just let me return to my room."

"Negative," Prowl replied in a clipped tone of voice, "If you are unwilling to talk to me then you will remain in the brig until you decide to come clean...or until your tribunal. You may think you can fool me, but there is no way you can fool Optimus Prime. We will get to the bottom of this."

"But I didn't do anything!" Mirage insisted desperately, "I was just checking out a noise I heard in the supply closet! The real traitor is still out there! We're wasting time here!"

"I will continue my investigation in case your words have merit," Prowl assured him in a less than friendly tone, "However, if I find that you are in fact guilty of selling us out to the Decepticons, then you would do well to have your affairs in order."

Prowl then motioned for Inferno and Hound to put Mirage back in the cell. Hound wore an apologetic look on his faceplate as he helped guide Mirage away. Mirage didn't blame Hound, and on some level he knew he shouldn't blame Prowl, but he couldn't help but be angry at that mech for not believing his word. Mirage wasn't a traitor, but that still left the blue and white noble wondering...who was?

* * *

Prowl returned to his office after finding no answers. He didn't believe Mirage acted alone in his sabotage. Mirage might've had the ability to turn invisible, but he didn't have the codes. Someone had to help Mirage get inside, but who?

The most obvious suspect was Jazz. Jazz was Mirage's direct superior in special ops, and that select group of only a few Autobots was like a family. Jazz was a very persuasive mech, and if he wanted to switch sides it would be easy to convince Mirage to join him. Question was had Jazz managed to get to any of the other special ops scouts? Prowl would have to interview Bumblebee, Hound, and Trailbreaker. Cosmos was also technically a scout, but he was in terrible condition and wouldn't be able to answer any questions for a while.

Then there was the question of Perceptor and Red Alert. Were they innocent? Prowl wanted to believe so. After all, Perceptor had access to most of their best technology. Only Ratchet and Wheeljack had more access than Perceptor when it came to practical knowledge, and even then Perceptor was smarter than them on a scholarly level. Prowl also wanted Red Alert to be innocent because he was a fellow skeptic and a great chief of security. They weren't friends, but Prowl still respected Red Alert's work ethic.

And then there was Jazz. Again his thoughts went back to the chief saboteur. _Saboteur_ was literally in his name for crying out loud! Jazz could do this so easily, but Prowl knew his spark would take a while to recover if it turned out to be true. Jazz was one of his only friends, one of the only mechs willing to put up with the uptight SIC.

Prowl didn't know who was responsible, and worse yet, no answer he found would be the answer he wanted. He wanted everyone to be innocent. He wanted it all to be a misunderstanding. He knew it wasn't though. He knew someone was committing a terrible crime against their own kind, and he was sure that Mirage was the lynchpin to this entire case.

A sudden beep from Prowl's feedback terminal jolted the Datsun from his thoughts. He couldn't believe his luck. After only a few hours without contact, the mole was communicating with the Decepticons again!

Prowl rushed to his desk and sat down. This time he was ready. He knew there was a 7.24 percent chance of this happening, so he had prepared. There was a translation screen hooked into his feedback terminal, and it would format everything said in the communications into a text file format. Prowl wished he could hear what was being said so he could identify the voice, but in this instance he would take what he could get.

The translator didn't know who was who, so it formatted the text into Mech One and Mech Two segments. Prowl waited anxiously for the communication to finish. He had made a mistake in arresting Mirage right away, but he wouldn't slip up again. This time he would use the words of the traitor as evidence against him, and perhaps even figure out which Decepticon was the outside contact.

After several agonizing minutes the comms were cut off and the file began to appear on Prowl's screen. At last he would know what had been said between the mole and the Decepticon contact.

Mech One: What do you want?

Mech Two: You promised us more information. You haven't been contacting us. You know how impatient Megatron gets.

Mech One: We've had a lot to deal with here. Not that it's any of your business, but Mirage was arrested. Prowl thought he was the traitor.

Mech Two: Oh that's good! Now they won't even be looking for you, and we can get as much intel as possible without interruption.

Mech One: Mirage is a good mech. He doesn't deserve to rot in the brig, not for something I did.

Mech Two: You better not be thinking about telling anyone! Remember, if you tell anyone about our little deal then our protection goes away. You know our new pet Trypticon has been chomping at the bit for a new chew toy. Now we wouldn't want to disappoint Trypticon, would we?

Mech One: You better not!

Mech Two: We won't have to...If you give us what we want. Now, what new inventions can you tell us about?

Mech One: I don't know anything yet. I'll uh...I'll let you know.

The transmission was cut off there, but Prowl had a bigger picture of what was going on just from that little bit of info. The Decepticons had a new team member named Trypticon. That name meant nothing to Prowl, so he would ask Optimus if that name held any significance. Whoever it was the mole was scared; scared enough to give the Decepticons anything they wanted to avoid being killed by it.

Prowl paced the room and thought about which suspects fit that description. Perceptor and Red Alert were still the two most likely culprits. Perceptor had actually admitted during his interrogation how much he hated fighting on the front lines. He complained that he was a mech of science rather than war. Perhaps he felt his combat skills would not suffice to save him from this Trypticon individual, so he agreed to help the 'Cons in exchange for mercy.

Then there was Red Alert. Fear was a great motivator for the security chief. Paranoia was his zen mantra and night terrors were his lullabies. He lived by fear and would likely die by fear as well, but was he afraid enough to betray everything he stood for just to avoid Trypticon?

Jazz seemed a little less likely in this scenario. Even without a voice Prowl knew those words didn't sound like Jazz. Sure, he would also defend Mirage, but he wouldn't be afraid of a new Decepticon or allow himself to be talked down to like that. In short, Jazz was no coward, and it seemed that now Prowl was searching for a coward.

He would have to investigate further into this, but in the meantime he needed to free Mirage from the brig. It was a risk to show support for Mirage with the real traitor possibly watching, but Prowl couldn't leave a friend to rot in a cell when he was clearly innocent. Prowl just hoped he could figure out the real identity of the traitor before the Decepticons learned something crucial.

* * *

Cosmos slowly came online, his entire body in pain from the forced transfer of new parts and barely circulating energon. He blearily looked up to see several faces staring down at him; all yellow and grey with big sharp toothy grins.

"Ah! I'm in The Pit!" Cosmos shrieked before his vision cleared and he could see what was actually in front of him, "Oh, hello Dinobots. Heh heh..."

"You Cosmos got slagged," Grimlock told him, "Him Swoop say you Cosmos got ripped inside out."

"Yes well, I certainly feel it," Cosmos sighed haggardly.

"Him Blaster say he come here in a few minutes," Swoop informed Cosmos, "Him bring cassettes too."

"Um, okay," Cosmos replied nervously due to the close proximity of the Dinobots to him.

"Ah, Cosmos. I see you're awake," Ratchet commented as he walked over to the berth, "You gave us quite a scare. We thought we'd lost you."

"So I've been told," Cosmos winced, "So, um, to what do I owe the honor of a visit from the Dinobots?"

What Cosmos really wanted to ask was why those vicious spark eaters were staring down at him like he was a snack, but he didn't want to say anything that would offend those bloodthirsty monsters. Cosmos, like most of the minibots, was afraid of the Dinobots and saw them as little more than talking animals.

"Swoop has been worried sick about you," Ratchet explained, "He hasn't left your side for a moment. He's even asked if he can be properly trained as a field medic to avoid future incidents."

"A field medic?" Cosmos asked, trying not to sound as skeptical as he felt, "That's, um, super. Yes, good idea, Swoop."

"Alright then, Cosmos needs his rest and you guys are bothering him," Ratchet shooed the Dinobots away, picking up on Cosmos' unease, "You need to go back to your room now. I'm very busy."

"Yes, and Blaster should be here soon," Cosmos added, "We need to discuss something important and top secret. It was nice seeing you guys though."

"But we Dinobots no get story yet!" Grimlock complained.

"Um...story?" Cosmos asked obliviously.

"Yeah, him Wheeljack in lab, and we no get story," Sludge sulked, "Ratchet, will you tell us Dinobots story?"

"Yeah, him Cosmos will feel better with story too!" Slag added, though only so he could convince Ratchet.

"Oh for crying out-!" Ratchet grumbled, but the Dinobots weren't budging and it seemed he wasn't getting out of this, "Fine, _one_ _story_. Then you leave."

"Yes, Ratchet," Swoop nodded compliantly.

"Alright then, so what kinds of stories does Wheeljack usually tell you?" Ratchet asked, having never had to do story time with the Dinobots before.

"Him Wheeljack tell us epic adventures with our toys!" Grimlock exclaimed excitedly.

"Uh, that maybe not good idea right now," Slag said sheepishly, "Me Slag Eat Megatronus Barbie and Omega Supreme Pizza Box..."

"That's alright," Ratchet replied quickly, "I'm not much for toys anyway. So, what kind of story would you like to hear from me?"

The Dinobots all looked at each other, but nobody seemed to have any idea of what to do without Wheeljack around to come up with an adventure for them. Grimlock liked war stories, but Ratchet was a medic. What kind of epic tales could he have? Swoop would probably want to hear about Ratchet's medical tales, but he didn't want his brothers to be bored. It seemed like an impasse.

"Actually Ratchet, there is something I've always been curious about," Cosmos piped up, and Ratchet turned to regard him, "Well, it's actually about you and Wheeljack. You see, um...how do I put this? You two seem so _different_. You fix things, and he breaks things. He's an extrovert, and you're an introvert. People fear you, but they fear Wheeljack's inventions. So I guess what I want to know is...why are you two best friends?"

"Ours was a friendship forged in fire," Ratchet recalled; his tone melancholic, "The truth is I wasn't always such a cynic, and Wheeljack wasn't always the chipper mech everyone knows today."

"Tell us that story," Swoop requested, "How did you Ratchet meet him Wheeljack?"

"Well...I'm not sure you're old enough to hear this," Ratchet wavered, "It's pretty gruesome, actually."

"You're worried about their sensitivities?" Cosmos asked sardonically, "The Dinobots are literal killing machines. I think they can handle a war story."

"Well, I suppose, but don't say I didn't warn you," Ratchet replied as he wagged his finger at Cosmos, "Anyway, this story starts in the early days of the conflict, back when the Decepticons weren't so much an enemy faction as they were a scattered group of terrorists. The ordinary people didn't realize the scope of the danger, but the council was very concerned about the threat Megatron posed to the Autobot way of life."

Ratchet then pulled up a chair and sat down next to Cosmos' berth so he could get more comfortable for the rest of the tale. The Dinobots all sat down on the ground surrounding Cosmos' berth and looked at Ratchet with the expectation of small children.

"There were a few murders of important intellectual mechs that had been favored by the council," Ratchet continued, "Megatron felt the best way to cripple the Autobots was to recruit what educators and scientists he could, and then kill the ones he couldn't, thus setting back Cybertronian knowledge by millennia. He killed Rung, Star Ranger, and even Alpha Trion's own sparkmate Beta. Soon the council decided that until Megatron was captured and executed that they would have to hide the most brilliant minds on Cybertron in a small town no one had ever heard of. Of course everyone knows the infamous name now: Simfur."

"I remember that," Cosmos interjected, "Simfur was just an outpost, and nobody knew that was where the great thinkers and inventors were hidden until they had been slaughtered."

"Were you there too, Ratchet?" Snarl asked softly.

"Hah, pit no!" Ratchet laughed, "I wasn't anybody special back then. I was just a junior field medic that had joined the young Prime's cause to try to keep Cybertron a peaceful place. I still remember that mechs in my old neighborhood thought I was crazy. They said the council could handle the situation and I was just wasting my time."

"Boy were they wrong," Cosmos remarked.

"Indeed," Ratchet nodded sadly, "I still remember the controversy over sending the scientists away to one place. There were some that refused to go. I remember Perceptor was the most vocal opponent of the idea. He said gathering all of the educators, artisans, and inventors in one location was just going to make them a bigger target. He managed to convince a few others, like Grapple and Brainstorm. Still though, over a hundred mechs and femmes heeded the council's orders and went to Simfur."

Ratchet stopped for a few seconds then. He heaved a heavy sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose cone. It was a time he didn't want to remember, but it was too late to turn back now.

"I remember Optimus getting the call from Simfur's guard unit," Ratchet continued, his voice more strained than before, "They had been ambushed by so many Decepticons from both the ground and the air. It was their most brazen attack up to that point. The guard survived long enough to get the message out, but he was dead along with the others when we got there. I was sent along with the rest of the medical team and a few security officers to protect us. It proved to be unnecessary though. The 'Cons were gone, and they had left devastation in their wake. I still remember the hardened molten metal of buildings. The dried energon splattered on the ground and parts strewn about with reckless abandon. It was the first massacre I had ever seen, and I'm not proud to admit I purged my fuel tank twice."

"I can't believe you saw the Simfur killing field," Cosmos whispered in sickened awe, "I remember it was all over the news broadcasts. So many innocent lives lost..."

"I searched for hours with the rest of the medical team for survivors," Ratchet sighed, "The area was hot where so many incendiary blasts had melted the landscape. Everything smelled of overheated steel and titanium. I had just about given up hope of ever finding survivors or even getting out of that place with my sanity intact, when I stubbed my pede on a body and it groaned. I was ecstatic! Someone was still alive! I turned the victim over and saw that the injuries weren't fatal, and I quickly figured out why. This mech had the hardest armor shielding of any scientist I had ever seen. Most mechs of the intellectual castes had soft lightweight comfortable armor, but the armor on this mech could've withstood a 4 megaton blast! Even his face mask was reinforced! Of course now I know why, given Wheeljack's explosive tendencies. Back then though I knew, that armor was the only thing that had saved that mech's life."

" _Wheeljack_?" Cosmos asked incredulously, "Wheeljack was a survivor of Simfur?"

"Not _a_ survivor, _the_ survivor," Ratchet corrected him, "Wheeljack was the only one who lived through the massacre, and I was determined to keep it that way. I repaired every injury myself, and checked on him every 5 breems. When he woke up a few joors later he was withdrawn and quiet. It took two orns before he would even tell us his name. I can still remember him sitting in the corner of the room on his berth watching the world go by, yet never participating. I was quite the idealist back then, and I was determined to get Wheeljack back on his pedes."

"Him Wheeljack was depressed?" Sludge asked, trying to digest the foreign concept.

"Yes, and it wasn't helped by what happened next," Ratchet recalled as if it were happening in real time, "Perceptor joined the Autobots, but he was just so _smug_ about being right about Simfur. I ground my denta every time he told Prime 'I told you so'. I was afraid that a blowhard like Perceptor would only make Wheeljack worse, so I made sure that little red microscope wasn't even allowed in the recovery room. I worked with Wheeljack for deca-orns trying to get him to open up. I tried asking him about his research, but Wheeljack didn't even want to talk about science after what had happened to him. So, we settled for small talk. I asked him how he liked staying in the recovery wing, and somehow that turned into us talking about every place we'd ever been to. Apparently Wheeljack was quite the traveler before I met him. When I learned that I found pictures of exotic places in travel data pads and compiled a list of them for him. Wheeljack and I would talk all the time about the places he wanted to go to after the war was over, not realizing that the war would ravage our world the way it has."

"Him Wheeljack never talk about old life on Cybertron," Slag commented, "Him always tell us how great earth is, and how we lucky to be earth-modes. Him say dinosaurs am awesome and we am awesome for being dinosaurs."

"That sounds like Wheeljack," Ratchet replied with a wan smile, "He's the type that doesn't like to look back. He'd rather focus on his latest project or his latest idea or whatever his friends are doing. He doesn't hold a grudge. In fact, I never told you what finally got him back into science."

"What was it?" Swoop asked curiously.

"If you can believe it, it was Perceptor," Ratchet chuckled, "I tried so hard to keep that egomaniac away from Wheeljack that when Perceptor finally met Wheeljack in the rec room Wheeljack had no idea who he was! Perceptor was griping about how the Autobots just didn't understand his genius and how his efforts to protect everyone were being ignored. Wheeljack, rather than get offended, simply asked to see Perceptor's work in action. Perceptor, finding out Wheeljack was a famous inventor, was only too happy to oblige. From there Wheeljack had managed to make yet another friend. I suppose they were both hurting in their own way, and they managed to help each other...just like Wheeljack and I managed to help each other."

Ratchet then stood up and placed the chair back next to the wall where he found it.

"You know it's funny," Ratchet said with a fond smile, "I feel so old now. It feels like everything has changed over the eons, including me. I'm not the eager young medic I used to be, and yet Wheeljack is one thing in my life that hasn't changed. His scientific method is still haphazard and dangerous, his attitude is still open and enthusiastic, and his experiments still scare me sometimes. It's a comfort to know he's always going to be the same old Wheeljack when everything else is changing all around me. I just wish I could be the same mech Wheeljack befriended in the first place."

Ratchet then walked away to his office to do who-knows what, leaving Cosmos and the Dinobots staring off after him.

"How him Ratchet different?" Sludge asked, not getting the gist of the story.

"The war changed all of us," Cosmos explained, "Before all of this started I never would have carried a gun, and now I panic if I don't have it with me. There are a lot of people in the Autobots that would have never been soldiers without the war. Blaster would probably be a DJ or a choreographer or something. I would probably still be a delivery mech. Prime would have never left the docks and remained a simple laborer. Wheeljack would be world famous and have a shelf full of awards. There's no telling what Cybertron would be like if Megatron had never ruined everything."

"What would we Dinobots be?" Grimlock asked hopefully.

"Um, you, uh...you wouldn't exist," Cosmos reluctantly told him, "Wheeljack and Ratchet made you for combat. If there was no war, then we never would've come to earth, and then Wheeljack would've never had the idea to make you in the first place."

"So...We Dinobots would be nothing if there was no war?" Grimlock asked disappointedly, "Then what can we Dinobots be after the war?"

"There be no after!" Slag contested, "War happen for millions of years! It not go away, and we be great Decepticon crushers forever!"

Grimlock felt that this logic was sound and conceded the point. Swoop however wasn't so sure. He knew medics would be needed even after the war ended, but now he had a new worry. What would his brothers become if they weren't allowed to fight anymore?


	6. Stories

_Author's Notes: I don't know why, but I've been on a real fanfic writing blitz lately. I think it's because I freed myself from the Friday schedule and now I just want to see how many of my ideas I can jot down. As for this chapter, it turned out okay but isn't really_ the big _chapter. That one might be coming up next time though if no better ideas pop into my brain. Anyway, thank you for following this mystery, and I hope you enjoy reading this chapter :)_

* * *

Chapter 6

Stories

The investigation into who had betrayed the Autobots was starting to turn the Ark upside down, and Optimus Prime felt surprisingly helpless during the entire process. Prowl wouldn't tell him who the main suspects were, Most of the crew had been locked inside for days and were getting antsy, Wheeljack had been holed up in his lab for two days working on a top secret project, Mirage had been arrested and then released, and Red Alert had been forced out of his own security station. In short, paranoia and suspicion abounded.

Optimus knew the investigation was necessary, but it was so tempting to just call the whole thing off so everything could go back to normal. Part of him was willing to believe one of his Autobots had just made a mistake and panicked in the moment, but another part of him knew that couldn't be true. The theft of the ionic destabilizer was too coordinated; too perfect. Clearly whoever gave the Decepticons that information knew every detail about the security measures and had no problem giving such info away to their enemies.

This thought made the Prime sigh heavily. Whoever had forsaken their team and their planet, he mourned for their loss. Sure, they weren't dead, but soon they would be as good as dead to every Autobot that had ever befriended them. He didn't want this for his people, but he knew it was unavoidable. The traitor did this to himself, whoever it was.

These thoughts were interrupted by a signal from Teletraan 1. It was coming from deep space and had an Autobot signal. It had to be either an ally, or a Decepticon in disguise. Optimus answered the comm, and was pleased to see his old friend Ultra Magnus on the screen.

"Ultra Magnus," Optimus greeted his fellow Autobot warmly, "I thought you were still on Cybertron with your squad."

"Change in plans," Ultra Magnus replied in clipped formal tones, "We picked up a transmission from a Decepticon known as Octane. Apparently he's coming down to earth with a new Decepticon weapon; a manufactured city-former known as Trypticon."

"That's impossible!" Optimus exclaimed incredulously, "One cannot manufacture an ancient. City-formers are practically extinct."

"Well they managed it," Ultra Magnus replied, "Blurr scouted the site of construction, and you won't believe this thing. It looks like a giant two-legged lizard and breathes fire. We know Trypticon will be difficult to defeat, so instead of a spaceship my crew and I are coming to earth in Metroplex. I know two city-sized Cybertronians will be a lot for an organic planet to handle, but we have no choice. Nothing else can defeat this thing."

"Who all is with you?" Optimus asked curiously.

"I'm bringing Kup, obviously," Ultra Magnus said with good humor, "That old warhorse is just what these younglings need to whip them into shape. I also have the scientist Brainstorm with me. He says you have a couple old friends of his aboard your ship; Wheeljack and Perceptor. The others are mostly kids. Hot Rod, Arcee, Springer, and Blurr. They can be a lot to handle, but I'd trust my life to any of them. Well, mostly. Hot Rod is a little green yet."

Prime chuckled before he said "I understand. Sideswipe is the same way. Bumblebee is inexperienced, but he is learning."

Optimus then suddenly remembered the current situation, and his mood quickly turned sober.

"Ultra Magnus, we have a grave situation aboard the Ark," Optimus began, "My SIC Prowl has been investigating a traitor aboard our ship."

"A traitor? Who is it?" Ultra Magnus asked immediately.

"We do not know yet," Optimus told him, "Until we figure it out though, no one is allowed to leave the ship. It has made my crew a bit...anxious."

"I see," Ultra Magnus replied calmly, "I'm sure your mech will be able to handle it. We'll be planetside within the orn. I look forward to seeing you all."

"And I look forward to seeing you as well," Optimus said graciously, "Prime out."

The transmission was cut, and Optimus walked away from Teletraan back to his office. He couldn't believe so much was happening all at once. He would have to secure land for Metroplex, he would have to debrief the new Autobots, and he would have to check with Prowl to see which mechs he could even allow to have contact with the new troops. If the case wasn't solved by the time the new Autobots showed up, then the traitor could cause some serious havoc to their ranks.

* * *

Back on Metroplex, Kup was busy telling the gathered Autobots a story from back when he was in the jungles of Gorr during the earlier period of the Third Cybertronian War.

"...So there I was, all alone with a leaking coolant tank with nothing to defend myself but a small vibroblade," Kup recounted dramatically, "The Graal beast was getting closer. My scent was strong because of the leaking energon and coolant, and I knew if I didn't do something that I would be that monster's breakfast."

"WhatDidYouDo?" Blurr asked in his usual hurried tone of voice.

"I climbed a tree and waited," Kup replied, "I held my blade tight and waited for the beast to get in range. When it was close enough, I jumped on its head and dug my blade into its skull!"

Everyone gasped as he pantomimed the action for them.

"Of course that wasn't enough to stop the slagger," Kup told them, "I rode that thing like a mechanical bull, but it just wouldn't die. I was growing weaker, and was sure that I was doomed. Suddenly though, I see a flash of red out of the corner of my optic."

"What was it?" Arcee asked in suspense.

"It was my good friend Ironhide," Kup replied with a smile, "He showed up just in the knick of time to blast a hole in that ugly Graal beast's chest. Oh, I tell you what, if it weren't for Ironhide saving my aft that day I wouldn't even be here. I'm really looking forward to seeing that old geezer's faceplate again."

"Wow, sounds like Prime's unit is something else," Springer said eagerly, "I can't wait to meet them. It's just a shame there aren't any other triple changers."

"Hey, you want triple changers? Go check out the 'Cons," Hot Rod laughed.

"Don't joke about that, kid," Kup warned the upstart, "Apparently there's a real honest to goodness traitor in their midst, and it's got everyone real edgy."

"I hope everyone there will be alright," Brainstorm replied worriedly, "Wheeljack and Perceptor are both sensitive mechs. I wouldn't want anything to happen to either of them. Not to mention Grapple. As I recall that mech is a real diva."

"How do you know these guys again?" Hot Rod asked.

"I met Perceptor at a protest during the Golden Age," Brainstorm recalled, "Now I normally wasn't the type to protest, but at that time the council was trying to force all scientists out of their home city-states to go live in the slums of some backwater place called Simfur."

"You two avoided Simfur? Talk about dodging a laser blast," Kup remarked as he leaned back in his chair.

"Indeed," Brainstorm nodded affirmatively, "Perceptor was the one who said avoid Simfur at all costs. I was very attached to my engineering practice in my home city-state of Iacon so I found his message very appealing. Poor Wheeljack though. You'd just have to know him to understand. He wasn't good at making his own decisions or going against social norms. If the council told him to go to Simfur, then he went to Simfur. Wheeljack and I were best friends since primary school; practically brothers. I was always the stronger personality of the two though. Wheeljack was friendly and intelligent, but had a weak will and would do anything to make others happy."

"Sounds like a decent guy," Springer commented.

"Oh, he was," Brainstorm nodded, "I honestly had assumed he died in the attack on Simfur. He never contacted me. I can't help but wonder if he was angry at me for not supporting his decision to go to Simfur. I know we didn't agree on Perceptor's rhetoric, but Perceptor turned out to be right. I suppose what drew me to Perceptor was just how much conviction he had when he spoke. I was so used to being the strong one in my friendships that it was nice to meet someone who...who didn't need me as much. I was just tired of carrying Wheeljack all the time, but I never meant to abandon him. I...I hope he will forgive me."

"A likable minibot like you? How could he not?" Hot Rod asked with a smarmy grin.

Brainstorm laughed at how goofy Hot Rod looked when he tried to look reassuring, and it helped him get his processor off things for a moment. He tried to think positively about the situation. He and Wheeljack could discuss theoretical science like old times. They could catch up on what they had missed from each other's lives. Also, since Perceptor worked with Wheeljack now, the three of them could finally hang out together.

* * *

Sludge was alone in an empty field in robot mode. He couldn't find his brothers, and he couldn't find the other Dinobots. He walked slowly toward the horizon as the wheat in the field brushed against his big metal pedes. It tickled.

As he walked he began to notice something odd about the field. It was bright and warm, and the sky was darker. Oh, right. It was on fire. The field was on fire. Sludge was standing perfectly still in a field that was on fire. He figured he should probably move to try to get away from the fire.

Sludge walked away from the fire, but the fire was still all around him. He didn't know what to do, so he tried to remember that safety PSA he saw on TV. It had said to stop and drop a roll. Sludge didn't know how that would help, but he pulled a piece of bread out of his subspace anyway. He didn't feel like dropping it though, so he tested out his new matter converter by eating it.

"You _ate_ the bread?" A voice suddenly gasped.

Sludge looked down to see Wheeljack on the ground lying on his back surrounded by fire.

"You're eating bread when I'm melting?" Wheeljack asked accusingly, "That's not very nice. You didn't even share!"

"Uh...My Sludge sorry, Wheeljack," Sludge apologized contritely.

"Yeah, me too," Wheeljack replied sincerely, "I wanted to give you a good world, but instead I'm melting because I'm on fire. Could you tell Ratchet to make more bread?"

"Uh...Sure," Sludge nodded slowly.

"War doesn't end nicely, you know," Wheeljack suddenly said to the confused Dinobot, "It doesn't end with pizza boxes and bread. It ends with melty people and dead things."

Wheeljack then suddenly turned into a million tiny bugs and they all flew away. Sludge watched them fly away, and saw Megatron fall out of the sky. Megatron then took a flamethrower and burned up all the tiny bugs, and the flaming bugs burned up the sky.

Sludge awoke in Dino-mode panting heavily from his intakes working overtime. He was terrified of his strange dream, and wasn't sure what it meant. A smarter mech would have connected Ratchet's earlier Simfur story with the dream, but Sludge wasn't that clear-headed. All he knew was that he didn't want to be alone.

He tried to nudge one of his brothers awake, but they were all deep in recharge. He needed to talk to someone, but he hadn't seen Wheeljack in two days and Ratchet would yell at him for interrupting his patient repair time. Sludge needed someone, anyone, to put a new thought into his processor, so he transformed into robot mode and left the Dinobot lair in search of a friendly faceplate.

Sludge stalked the halls in the late night. He didn't know where he was going, only that he needed to find someone.

As he passed the security room, he saw that the lights were on. Sludge poked his head inside and saw that Red Alert was pulling wires out of some monitors and muttering to himself.

"Hrm...grr...Prowl thinks he can order ME around, huh...grm...Show him..." Red Alert grumbled as he pulled on more wires, "I'm the security chief...he won't...get...away with...this! He can't...outsmart me!"

Sludge watched for a moment, but didn't really want to talk to the mech that always yelled at him and his brothers, so he left Red Alert alone to break his fancy machines or whatever it was he was doing.

For several more minutes Sludge traversed the halls searching for someone to...well, he actually forgot why he was looking for someone, but he still remembered that he was looking for someone friendly.

After a few more minutes Sludge walked by the various private quarters and noticed the light was on in one. He didn't know which mech lived in this room, but at this point it hardly mattered. Sludge was tired and still a little bit afraid, though he had already forgotten the details of his dream. Sludge knocked on the door, and Bluestreak answered.

"Huh? A Dinobot? What's going on?" Bluestreak asked in confusion, though it was clear he was still awake.

"You Bluestreak awake," Sludge pointed out the obvious.

"Yes, well, I don't recharge well," Bluestreak replied sheepishly, "At night there's nothing to drive the bad thoughts away."

"You Bluestreak have bad thoughts?" Sludge asked curiously.

"Well...yeah, occasionally," Bluestreak stammered, "I was just, um, thinking of...of Praxus. It was my home city-state. You probably don't want to hear about that."

"Me Sludge want to hear," Sludge replied openly, "What am Praxus like?"

"Oh, well, it was nicknamed the Crystal City because the center of town was made out of pure Cybertronian crystals," Bluestreak began as he stepped aside for Sludge to enter his room, "It was originally built by the Constructicons, but of course they weren't evil back then. There were so many beautiful parks in the city, and the skyline was on hundreds of postcards. In fact, at one point the standard computer background was a picture of Praxus. That was back when recreational computers were still a big thing on Cybertron. I think earth has some very interesting computer models. The laptop is kinda big to be on a human's lap, and the tablet isn't made of stone at all. I don't really understand why they name certain things the way they do. I mean, why do they call the act of removing dust dusting? Shouldn't it be undusting? Wouldn't that make more sense? I mean, you don't call debunking bunking, right? That would be weird. Speaking of weird, have you noticed the way some of the mechs have been acting lately? Prowl hasn't really talked to me since the investigation began, and I'm really starting to miss him. He's like a big brother to me. Hey, do you Dinobots think of Grimlock as a big brother, or are you all the same to each other?"

"Uh...Me Sludge not know," Sludge replied; his optics glazed over from trying to keep up with Bluestreak's tangent, "You Bluestreak know story?"

"Story?" Bluestreak asked obliviously.

"Me Sludge have bad thoughts too," Sludge admitted, "Bad sleepy time thoughts. Story helps make mind better."

"Gee, no one ever asks to hear one of my stories," Bluestreak replied humbly, "I would be happy to help. Let me think...a story for a Dinobot...well, I have a story about special ops if you want to hear it."

"Okay," sludge nodded compliantly.

"Well, it all started when I had an accident in the shooting range," Bluestreak began, "I accidentally shot Tracks in the pede, and after that everyone was worried I was losing my touch. Well, I needed to take my sharpshooter's test again to make sure I got to keep my long-range weapons. I wasn't allowed to have my gun, so I had to leave it with someone trustworthy. I decided on Trailbreaker since he's a pretty reliable mech. What I forgot about Trailbreaker however was that he liked to drink, a lot. He got overcharged one orn and accidentally gave my gun to Bumblebee by mistake thinking it was a special ops weapon. Well, Bumblebee took the gun on a mission in Decepticon HQ, but they were discovered and got caught in a firefight. When Jazz lost his gun Bumblebee gave him mine, so then Jazz had it. Then he lost it in a poker game to Mirage, and Mirage traded it to Hound in exchange for getting out of outdoor patrol duty. Before long, every member of special ops had been in possession of my gun, and the only reason I found out was because Red Alert caught everything on security tape! Hahahaha!"

Sludge laughed with Bluestreak even though he couldn't follow the story. He just wanted to hear someone else's voice and didn't much care what Bluestreak actually said. Bluestreak was also happy that someone (for once) was hanging on his every word. The story did bring a somber thought to Bluestreak however.

"Gee, I hope Red Alert isn't the traitor," Bluestreak said softly, "His behavior has been pretty shady lately. I hope that's just typical security stuff."

"Him Red Alert rip wires," Sludge told Bluestreak.

"What?" Bluestreak asked; not following.

"Him Red Alert rip wires," Sludge repeated, "Out of fancy security TVs. Him say Prowl not outsmart him."

Bluestreak gasped at the news the simple-minded Dinobot had just told him. If what Sludge said was credible, and the apatosaurus had no reason to lie, then Red Alert was trying to obstruct the investigation. The most likely conclusion for why was obvious: Red Alert was hiding something.


	7. Someplace Better

_Author's Notes: Well, I know I'm late to the party, but last night I finally saw the Bumblebee movie. I gotta say, I knew the first 5 Michael Bay movies were bad, but they look even worse after seeing what a competent director and a decent script can do for a Transformers movie. It's obvious the people behind this one actually liked the original cartoon, and the actors were really good in this one as well. The main emotion I feel is surprise, since I had pretty low expectations. The emotion of a Disney film and the senseless violence of Mars Attacks. A weird combination, but it works._

 _Anyway, about the chapter for this fic. I know I updated pretty quickly this time, but I'm just excited to get this part out there. I feel like the length is wrong though. I don't know if I should have split this into two chapters or if I should have waited and made a monster chapter out of this one, but it feels off to me. Probably because I know where this is going. Hopefully it will still read well. I also finished a chapter of "The Rat Came Back", but I won't post that one until later since it needs editing. For now though, strap in folks, because this is where things really start to ramp up :)_

* * *

Chapter 7

Someplace Better

Prowl had searched for leads all day long regarding the traitor. He had analyzed the text recording for speech patterns to see if he could eliminate anyone, he had retraced the path to the equipment vault to see who would have had the most convenient access, and had interviewed several crew members to try to gets deals. Nothing panned out. His two major suspects were Perceptor and Red Alert, but he didn't know if it was either of them, neither of them, or both of them working together. It felt like everything was hitting a dead end.

Out of all the mechs Prowl thought could help him, Bluestreak was the last one he would have guessed had any information to speak of. As it turned out though, he had something to say.

"Who did you say told you this?" Prowl asked for clarification.

"Sludge," Bluestreak replied, "It was late last night, somewhere between 2:00 AM and 3:00 AM according to our position on earth. Red Alert was talking to himself about you and tearing apart his own equipment. I don't know what it means, but it certainly seems suspicious."

"Indeed it does," Prowl confirmed, "I'll have to check this out for myself. Don't tell anyone you spoke to me about this, and inform Sludge to keep this confidential as well."

"I don't know if that will work," Bluestreak replied uncertainly, "Sludge is pretty dense. He's a nice guy, but I don't think he can keep a secret."

"You, Bluestreak, have no self awareness and no sense of irony," Prowl said dryly as he stood up from his desk and walked to the door, "Remember, speak of this to no one."

With those words Prowl left his office and headed for the security room; leaving Bluestreak confused and wondering if he had just been insulted.

* * *

Sparkplug showed up to the Ark for work bright and early as usual. His son Spike immediately went to find Bumblebee and Hound, which left Sparkplug to go to the labs as always.

The middle aged man could feel the tension on the ship as if it were smog choking the joy out of the atmosphere. This investigation had been going on for too long, and the Autobots were tired of being trapped inside. The only one allowed to leave without clearance was Optimus, and frankly this was a bad time for the big guy to leave since he was the only one left that could command any sort of trust or respect.

"Why can't you just admit it?!" Sparkplug heard Cliffjumper shout.

"I have already been acquitted, you uncouth troll," Mirage retorted.

Sparkplug just sighed and continued on until he found the labs. In the public lab he could see Perceptor and Skyfire working on something involving chemicals and test tubes. That wasn't Sparkplug's specialty, so he ignored it. He was there to see Wheeljack and help the engineer out like always. Out of all the academic types on the Ark Sparkplug found that he connected with Wheeljack the best. Wheeljack just felt like any other mechanic rather than some high-riding professor or uppity physician. That humble friendly attitude always drew Sparkplug to the wacky inventor.

When Sparkplug got to the lab he could see it was locked, so he knocked and hoped Wheeljack could hear him over whatever tools were whirring and grinding in there. At first there was no answer, so Sparkplug knocked again. This time the door opened and the human stepped inside.

Wheeljack waved at his small friend with the hand that was holding a blowtorch, and then turned back to whatever machine he was fiddling with at the moment.

"Hey Wheeljack, what'cha working on?" Sparkplug asked casually.

"A new security system for the Ark," Wheeljack replied excitedly, "I've been in here for two- oh wait, three days. I haven't refueled or recharged, and I won't until this is done. Once I'm finished, nothing will break into Autobot Headquarters! Hahaha!"

"Uhh, I think you need some sleep, Jackie," Sparkplug suggested, "You're starting to sound a little loopy."

"I can't sleep. They're all just standing around twiddling their digits, and someone has to look out for us," Wheeljack insisted, "When I attach these interconnected wires and diodes on the ship, no one will be able to hurt us. If a Decepticon touches the wires, they'll be shocked into stasis lock! After that I'll use the second part of my security system to sweep them away from us and down the mountain below!"

"Did you say _sweep_ them away?" Sparkplug asked quizzically.

"Yeah. I got the idea from your broom and dustpan," Wheeljack said with an innocent smile in his optics, "The sweeper will be bigger than Omega Supreme, and stronger than a combiner! I thought about giving it a personality, but then I would have to name it. I mean, what do you even call a giant broom and dustpan machine?"

"I think the real question is why do you need something that big?" Sparkplug chuckled, "You trying to sweep Devastator off the premises?"

"Something like that," Wheeljack replied vaguely, "Listen Sparkplug, you're a father. I wanna ask you something about raising kids."

"Sure, ask away," Sparkplug replied jovially, always happy to talk about his son.

"Well, Spike is getting older, and he's a pretty capable young man," Wheeljack began almost bashfully, "He's even worked with Bumblebee to take down Decepticons before. I guess what I want to ask is, when Spike thinks he can handle something, but you know he can't, how do you get him to not do the thing that might hurt him?"

"Spike's a smart kid. I trust him," Sparkplug replied fondly, "And if he ever does do something stupid, then he has to fail on his own. Either he fails and never does the stupid thing again, or he fails and he finds a smarter way to do it. I know my way isn't perfect, but at least Spike knows he can come to me if he needs my help. I won't yell at him for failing, but I won't stop him from failing either. He has to learn how life really works."

"I've always felt that way too," Wheeljack told him.

"You have kids?" Sparkplug asked curiously.

"Yeah, the Dinobots," Wheeljack reminded him, and Sparkplug simpered sheepishly.

"Sorry," Sparkplug said with a wince, "I forgot building them is similar to procreation for you guys."

"It's okay. I know they don't look like typical sparklings," Wheeljack excused his friend, "The thing is, they were specifically built to fight. They can handle anything, or at least that was my intention. The problem is now I worry that there might come a day when they _can't_ handle something, and I don't know how to tell them when to stop. I feel like I've been too soft on them. I couldn't help it though. They're more than just inventions to me. As cliche as it sounds, they're my family. Everyone treats them like disposable screw-ups, and I guess I overcompensated by spoiling them. Now though, I'm worried. What if I raised them wrong? What if they think they're invincible when they're not? What if...what if they break because I built something wrong? I don't know what I was thinking; creating life. I'm an idiot."

"No you're not," Sparkplug reassured him, "You're just a normal parent. As dads it's our job to worry about our kids. It just means you care. Don't worry though, you and Ratchet built them fine, and they can handle the Decepticons. Just trust them and let time take care of the rest. Now, do you want some help with that machine?"

"No, I actually think I should get some energon," Wheeljack replied timidly, his tiredness and hunger catching up with him, "You wanna join me?"

"Sure. I packed a ham sandwich," Sparkplug shrugged goodnaturedly, "Maybe we can hear some gossip about Prowl's manhunt."

"Yeah, I heard about Mirage. I'm glad he didn't do it," Wheeljack replied as he followed Sparkplug out of the lab, "Frankly I can't picture any of our comrades doing something like working for Megatron. Megatron's a jerk. Oh by the way, do you think adding a klaxon in my electric shock wires would be overkill?"

Sparkplug chuckled and shook his head at that ridiculous question. Everything Wheeljack did was overkill, so why should this be any different?

* * *

Prowl entered the security room to see Inferno trying to repair two monitors on the floor. Inferno wasn't the handiest of mechs, so he was just making a bigger mess by trying to fix the broken screens.

"Let me guess," Prowl began dourly, "Those monitors went to the security feed in this room."

"Yeah," Inferno sighed, "Red didn't want you spyin' on him so he tore them apart. I can't believe he did this in the middle of the night like some common vandal."

"Have you seen Red Alert?" Prowl asked point blank.

"Yeah, he went to the engine room," Inferno replied, "He'll be back in a breem or two. He said he thought he saw the twins doing something suspicious. He's sure fired up about bein' the one to catch the traitor. I think his pride got hurt when Prime didn't assign him to work with you and yet allowed me to. He barely talks to me now. Thinks I'm stealing his job. He'll get over it once the investigation is over."

"That might be a while," Prowl told him, "I'm running out of leads and don't have the slightest clue who it could be. Red Alert is actually one of my suspects, but I don't have any concrete evidence to say for sure he was in on it. I have other suspects as well, but again, nothing definite. I feel like I'm missing something. Some clue that would explain everything. Normally getting into the processor of the criminal can help me capture him, but I don't understand why anyone would betray the Autobots over something as trivial as a new Decepticon."

"New Decepticon?" Inferno asked curiously, "I heard new Autobots were coming to earth, but I didn't hear nothin' about new 'Cons."

"Ultra Magnus will debrief us when he gets here," Prowl stated, "I also don't know anything about them except the name of one of them; Trypticon. Does that name mean anything to you?"

"No, I can't say it does," Inferno shrugged, "Well, okay, so you don't know who it is, and you'll likely have no arrest by the time Magnus's team gets here. Yep, that's a problem alright. Now, you said an officer was most likely the culprit when you recruited me. Name off every officer again except yourself."

"Jazz, Red Alert, Perceptor, Ratchet, Ironhide, Wheeljack, and Blaster," Prowl recited, "The only one I've been able to eliminate is Ironhide. I don't suspect all of them, but there are a few that definitely stand out."

"Maybe that's your problem," Inferno suggested, "Maybe you're too focused on the ones you think did it. Maybe the mole is someone you overlooked. I'm gonna name each officer one by one, and you tell me if they had a motive or not."

"If you think that will help, then alright," Prowl agreed.

"Blaster," Inferno started.

"Hm...motive...he and his four cassettes are rivals with Soundwave and his brood," Prowl mused, "That would make them unlikely traitors. As communications officer he would have the means-"

"Not means, _motive_ ," Inferno reminded him.

"Then I can think of nothing," Prowl replied, "Optimus hates his music, but that's hardly a motive for treason."

"Alright then. What about Ironhide?" Inferno asked.

"He is Optimus Prime's oldest friend," Prowl noted, "I doubt there is anything the Decepticons could offer him that would make him betray his principles."

"Then what about Jazz?" Inferno continued.

"The most likely motive is power, but that hardly seems plausible," Prowl replied, "Jazz is TIC here. The only two mechs higher than him are myself and Prime. Of course that could change once Ultra Magnus gets here, and Jazz of all people would have ways of knowing about that in advance...hm, it's far fetched, but it is a possibility. Jazz is still on the list."

"And Perceptor?" Inferno asked.

"He is a suspect," Prowl replied simply, "He has aided Megatron in the past and has displayed a disdain for Prime's choices regarding battle tactics. He has motive."

"Ratchet?" Inferno asked.

"Ratchet..." Prowl had to think on this one. He hated to admit it, but Ratchet as a serious suspect never even crossed his mind.

"Well?" Inferno prodded.

"The only way I could see Ratchet being seduced to hand over information to the Decepticons is if Megatron promised an end to the war," Prowl concluded, "Of course I doubt Ratchet is actually foolish enough to believe Megatron, but if he felt like there was even the slightest chance...I don't know how he would react."

"So that's two suspects," Inferno nodded, "What about Red Alert?"

"Are you just going in alphabetical order?" Prowl inquired.

"Well...yeah," Inferno confessed, "It was the easiest way to keep track of the suspects."

"Very well then," Prowl replied longsufferingly, "Red Alert is a suspect because as security chief he had the means-"

"Prowl," Inferno chided him, "We'll get to means later. First tell me what you think his motive might be."

"I know Red Alert is your friend," Prowl continued as diplomatically as he could, "However, I have noted that the traitor is afraid of a currently unknown Decepticon named Trypticon. Red Alert is a paranoid and fearful mech, and has a history of working with Starscream; Megatron's second in command. If Red Alert were to believe his own life was in danger or that the Autobots had done something against him, I could see him betraying us to be with the Decepticons."

"Red's not a bad guy," Inferno lamented, "He just has some processor issues. If he did do it, and I'm not so sure he did, then it could've been when he was having a paranoid episode."

"That is possible. I won't rule anything out," Prowl told him.

"So, what about Wheeljack?" Inferno concluded.

"Wheeljack invented the ionic destabilizer. I doubt he would steal his own invention and give it to someone else," Prowl reasoned, "Besides, unlike Perceptor and Red Alert, Wheeljack has no history with working for Decepticons. Neither does Ratchet, or Jazz, or Ironhide, or Blaster. That just leaves two likely suspects."

"What about Skyfire?" Inferno suggested, "If we're just talking about motive, then Skyfire has the most motive of anyone here. He was once Starscream's best friend. When we met him he _was_ a Decepticon. Maybe he misses his friend and wanted to give away our secrets to prove he was worthy of joining Megatron again."

"That scenario is unlikely," Prowl deduced, "Skyfire's beliefs differ greatly from the Decepticons. I doubt he could overlook their murderous tendencies for his own personal gain, even if it meant regaining a friendship he had lost. Besides, now that we've discussed motive, let's discuss means. Skyfire has no way of determining the combination of the vault where the ionic destabilizer is kept, nor did he have a way of knowing we even had such an invention. The senior staff has been my point of focus because they would be most likely to have the ability and opportunity to open the vault. Everyone we mentioned except Skyfire could have given the Decepticons the code. Red Alert especially would be able to coordinate such a thing since he can see what everyone is doing from this room."

"So, I guess your mind's made up," Inferno said with a hint of sadness, "You think Red is guilty. You gonna arrest him?"

"Not without proof," Prowl replied stoically despite Inferno's defensiveness, "I know things look bad for Red Alert, but I will not make the same mistake I made with Mirage. I will not throw anyone in the brig until I know for sure I have the right individual."

As Prowl and Inferno spoke about this, Red Alert was on the other side of the door listening in. He knew Prowl thought he was a suspect now, and he knew Inferno had been in on it the whole time. Red wasn't about to stick around and take this level of disrespect. He might get in trouble for it later, but he had to get out of the Ark as quickly as possible. He needed some room to think about his next move.

* * *

Several hours later Optimus received the comm that Metroplex and the Autobot crew had landed in the field the Autobots had requested from the United States government for their city-former. Spike and Sparkplug were amazed that the state of Oregon had been so accommodating for Metroplex, and had even deemed the small area of land as a new city on the map. Unfortunately, they didn't get the memo that the city's name was Metroplex, so the charter listed the area as Autobot City.

"I can't believe I'll get to see Hot Rod, Springer, and Arcee again," Bumblebee said excitedly to his two human passengers Spike and Carly, "We were all in scout training together. Hot Rod got all the highest scores for weapons training, but I was always top of my class in espionage. I wonder if Arcee is still as pretty as I remember."

"You said that Arcee was a girl?" Carly asked for clarification, "I'm surprised Autobots even have women. I mean, you're all robots, right?"

"We're mechanical beings, but we're still alive," Bumblebee replied as if it should be obvious, "Vector Sigma is the main way we reproduce, but there is a small percentage of our population that can make more sparks. These are known as femmes, which is your equivalent to a female. There aren't that many left, so I was really happy to hear Arcee is still out there holding her own."

"What's Springer like?" Spike asked curiously.

"He's tough as they come, but also a really nice guy," Bumblebee replied, "I think he and Arcee have a thing for each other, but I never asked. It'll also be cool to meet Kup and Ultra Magnus. I hear Ultra Magnus is one of Prime's best friends, and Ironhide told me he and Kup used to go on missions to protect alien planets from Decepticons together."

"Wow, that sounds so cool," Spike replied in awe, "I hope I can explore alien planets someday."

The trio drove to the meeting site while chatting away about the new Autobots on earth. Bumblebee had trouble keeping up with the convoy because he kept getting lost in his own thoughts. It was a small group since most Autobots still weren't allowed to leave the Ark. The only ones Prowl had cleared were Optimus Prime, Ironhide, Bumblebee, Mirage, Inferno, and because they didn't live in the Ark, the Protectobots.

When they made it to the landing area, Metroplex had already landed and had just opened his door for the Autobots to get out and see the planet they would be protecting from the Decepticons. Spike and Carly stuck their heads out of Bumblebee's open windows to see what they could see of the newcomers and the city-former.

Metroplex of course was huge, and was a shiny silver color. It looked like one of those cities of the future at the Epcot Center, if none of the exhibits were painted. Ultra Magnus of course was large and imposing with broad shoulder guards, blue and orange paint, and a blue visor that reflected in the sun. There was also a green helicopter-former, a pink feminine looking robot (Arcee, clearly), a sea green mech smoking what looked like a cigar, a smaller jet looking mech with shades of blue orange and white paint, and a flashy mech with flames painted on his red frame. In short, these guys looked impressive.

The human couple got out of Bumblebee so that he could transform along with the rest of the Autobots, and Optimus walked straight up to Ultra Magnus.

"I am glad to see you all made it here safely," Optimus greeted the unit commander, "Did the Decepticons give you any trouble along the way?"

"No, but Blurr got sick during reentry," Ultra Magnus replied wryly, "He's over there leaning over the edge of Metroplex purging his circuits out."

Spike and Carly looked up to see a blue mech throwing up purple liquid over the wall of the city-former, and Spike couldn't help but feel just as sorry for Metroplex as he felt for Blurr.

"Ironhide!" Kup shouted jovially when he saw his old friend, "How've you been, you son of a cyberhound?"

"Better than you look, you old turbofox," Ironhide jabbed goodnaturedly at his friend, "Pit, it's good to see you. Now the 'Cons don't stand a chance."

"Did they ever?" Kup asked cheekily.

"Um, excuse me, Prime?" The jet called for Optimus's attention, "Excuse me, my designation is Brainstorm. I heard that Perceptor and Wheeljack were among your crew. I'm an old friend of theirs and was wondering when they would be arriving."

"I'm afraid they couldn't join us on the trip here," Optimus replied regretfully, "However, all of you are invited to the Ark for a welcome to earth party in the rec room. We'll be serving energon and everyone will be there to greet you all. I'm sure you will have plenty of time to catch up with your friends then."

"Oh, wonderful!" Brainstorm exclaimed happily, "Wheeljack and I have known each other our entire lives. I can't wait to see him again. I've invented so many new things since we last spoke, and I'm sure he has many theories to discuss with me as well. It will also be good to see Perceptor. That mech saved my life."

"Oh? How'd he do that?" Hot Spot, the Protectobot leader, asked.

"He kept me out of Simfur," Brainstorm replied, "Oh, the suspense is killing me! Ultra Magnus sir, permission to leave now?"

"Yeah, let's go to the party already!" Hot Rod seconded the motion.

With all the young mechs (and some of the older ones) clamoring for the chance for energon and entertainment, Optimus and Ultra Magnus had no choice but to concede and go to the Ark. They said goodbye to Metroplex and promised to bring him back some energon, and then everyone drove back to the Ark.

* * *

Even when they got back to the Ark everyone was still talking. The group transformed back into robot mode in the hangar and discussed plans for the future. It was the most hopeful Ultra Magnus and his crew had felt in vorns, and the appeal of earth was already obvious. Everything was so peaceful and the weather was so warm. It felt like the new crew had stepped into some organic paradise.

The first member of Prime's crew to see everyone coming in was Ratchet, and since he knew Ultra Magnus he couldn't wait to see him.

"Ultra Magnus, I see you managed to avoid getting scrapped without me to look after you," Ratchet joked.

"Yes, somehow we managed," Ultra Magnus replied with dry humor, "It is good to see you again. Could you tell Brainstorm where the lab is? He won't rest until he gets to see his old friends Wheeljack and Perceptor."

"You knew them from before the war?" Ratchet asked in surprise.

"Indeed I did," Brainstorm replied joyfully, "Two finer processors Cybertron has never seen. I'm especially eager to see Wheeljack. He's my oldest and dearest friend, and I'm...I'm worried he might be angry with me. I want to see him to make sure nothing is sour between us. We had a bit of a falling out before Simfur, and I didn't know he had survived until now. I'm hoping we can put the past behind us, and that we can begin our friendship anew. I even brought an old photo cube from when we were sparklings. He'll be so happy I preserved it."

"I'm sure he will," Ratchet said with a warmth he rarely showed, "I've always wondered what he was like before Simfur destroyed his dreams and his career."

As the new group spoke with the old group there was a certain mech hiding behind the walls of the adjacent doorway. Wheeljack saw Brainstorm speaking animatedly to Ratchet, and he could only think of one thing...he couldn't be left in the same room with that mech.

* * *

The Dinobots had heard there was a party being held in the rec room, but they weren't allowed to attend right away. Optimus had said that the newcomers should be allowed to meet everyone at their own pace, whatever that meant, and that they could come a little later to the party when everyone was already in a good mood. Grimlock knew what that really meant though. Prime was embarrassed by them, and he didn't want them to upset the fancy new guests at their fancy party.

"Me Slag bored!" Slag complained from where he was laying on the floor in triceratops mode, "Me want to go party!"

"Me Sludge bored too..." Sludge groaned from beside their energon dispenser, "Me want to meet new people."

"We Dinobots not supposed to leave," Swoop reminded them, "We can go to party later. For now we Dinobots just do something else."

"Like what?" Slag snapped irritably, "Me Slag _bored_!"

Just then, their door suddenly opened, and standing in the doorway was-

"WHEELJACK!" Every Dinobot screamed happily before they collectively tackled their sire.

"Whaaa!" Wheeljack yelled before he fell to the ground with several tons of Dinobot on top of him, "Ow...that hurt. Okay guys, get off. We gotta go."

"We go to party now?" Grimlock asked eagerly.

"No guys, we're gonna go someplace even better!" Wheeljack exclaimed as Snarl helped him stand up, "We're gonna go far away, to a wonderful new place. A place where people like us can do whatever we want and no one will judge us ever again."

"We go to carnival?" Grimlock asked excitedly.

"We go to lumberyard?" Slag guessed.

"Maybe we go to farm upstate like in movie," Sludge suggested.

"That was metaphor for death, dummy," Snarl told his brother in a snide tone.

"Maybe we go to Bedrock," Sludge tried again, "Like in The Flintstones."

"Hey, when we've got each other, every place is Bedrock," Wheeljack assured his sons, "We've just gotta leave quietly. We don't want the partygoers to be jealous that we're going someplace better."

Grimlock nodded solemnly at the secret they were keeping with their sire. With the Dinobots on board, Wheeljack led the way down the hall. Soon they would be out of the Ark and into the wide blue yonder. Unfortunately, Wheeljack didn't actually have a plan for where they would go once they were out. He only knew that they had to leave quickly. Now that Brainstorm was on board the ship, Wheeljack was living on borrowed time.

* * *

The party raged on for an hour with no sign of Wheeljack. Perceptor, Ratchet, and Brainstorm had been engaged in riveting conversation about the best methods for treating a wound that threatened to penetrate the spark, but after several minutes of going over the same talking point Brainstorm finally had to ask-

"Is Wheeljack coming soon? I thought he knew I was here."

"I'm sure he's just busy, that's all," Perceptor replied comfortingly, "You know how it is when one gets in the zone and time loses all meaning. I'm sure he'll be along."

"Hey, you said you had some holo-photos of the two of you together. Why not show us those?" Ratchet suggested, "I for one think it would be funny to see what a sparkling Wheeljack looked like."

"Alright," Brainstorm replied agreeably, "Of course most of these pictures are from our academy days, both as students and professors."

Brainstorm then projected the first holo-image, a camping trip that had been taken by their entire biology class that vorn.

"See, there I am in the front row," Brainstorm showed them, "My face mask was a little crooked because I thought it looked cool back then. I was such a dork when I was a youngling."

"Where's Wheeljack?" Perceptor asked.

"Oh, he's right next to me on the right. You can tell because his helm wires are getting all over Quarantine's face! Hah!" Brainstorm laughed at the image, but Ratchet and Perceptor weren't laughing.

"That's not Wheeljack," Ratchet declared as he stared down at the image.

"Of course it is," Brainstorm contested, "Here's a closer image of when he won an award for outstanding achievements in quantum mechanics. This image was in several news articles."

The closer image was the same mech from the previous photo, but it looked about as much like Wheeljack as Ratchet resembled a human supermodel. This mech was a minobot, more or less. He was dark blue and grey colored, had bulging blue optics with silver rims, blue glowing wire follicles all over his helm, and large flat dental plates. This mech looked unattractive, yet very much like an upper caste mech. His armor was shiny yet wouldn't hold up to any sort of pressure, his servos looked delicate and small, his pedes were curved upward, and his demeanor seemed jittery yet serious. In short, this did not look like Wheeljack.

"Who is this mech?" Perceptor asked in puzzlement.

"I told you, that's Wheeljack," Brainstorm replied defensively, "How could you not recognize someone you've spent millions of stellar cycles with?"

"Brainstorm, there has to be a mistake," Ratchet insisted, "Not only is that not Wheeljack, but there's no way that was _ever_ Wheeljack. The mech we know could have never looked like this mech in the picture. The frame is all wrong, as is the height and width. This guy doesn't even look like he transforms into a car."

"He didn't," Brainstorm replied, a growing sense of unease in the pit of his tank, "He transformed into a supercomputer. Why would a scientist in the Golden Age need wheels?"

Ratchet and Perceptor looked at each other, at a loss for what this could mean. Brainstorm, a mech that claimed he knew Wheeljack better than anyone, insisted that a stranger was their longtime friend. That couldn't be right, yet by the same token it couldn't be wrong. The proof was right there. That strange looking upper caste mech was the formerly famous theorist and inventor Wheeljack. So then, if that guy was Wheeljack, then what was going on?

Before their question could be answered or even asked, there was a comm sent out on all frequencies.

/Attention Ark crew,/ Prowl intoned through the comm, /Red Alert has violated Autobot sanction 42/8 Delta and escaped the ship during a routine investigation. Red Alert is now classified as MIA. Repeat, Red Alert is MIA./


	8. Supersize Me

_Author's Notes: I'm glad I'm able to get this chapter out today, because things have been and will continue to be busy in this house. Spring just seems like that time of year where everyone emerges from their winter crypt and wants to do stuff. Also, I wanted to point out a review by **Guest** who said this fic is turning into "As The Kitchen Sinks". Yes...so much yes! That describes this so well, and it's only going to go further down the rabbit hole, so I hope everyone enjoys the ride :)_

* * *

Chapter 8

Supersize Me

Red Alert drove along the desert road contemplating his next move. He had been gone for an hour, and now that he had time to clear his processor he realized how guilty he must look by leaving. He hated that his own team could plot against him, but if he actually _looked_ guilty...oh, this was bad.

Making a sharp U turn on the empty road, Red Alert decided that he had to return to base and hope that he could convince that tight-aft Prowl that he was innocent. Then again, Red Alert didn't exactly have a suspect to pin the blame on either, so why would Prowl believe him?

Red's freelance investigation had started with Perceptor since he was intelligent enough and unassuming enough to get away with such a crime. Red had pulled up Perceptor's records and found nothing, but he had found a connection with Grapple, who had worked with the Constructicons in the past, so Red asked Grapple a few questions. Grapple only wanted to talk about his new tower idea, so Red searched for any building materials that had gone missing or any construction projects the Decepticons might be working on, and he hit paydirt.

The Decepticons were working on a large platform, which would certainly count as a building project. However, it wasn't a tower, so it likely wasn't Grapple's doing. Red then paid off the Decepticon Swindle to learn what the platform was for, and Swindle told him all about a new city-former; Trypticon. That told Red nothing of the traitor, but it was certainly a big problem. If they actually had their own city-former then the Autobots and countless earth natives would be in danger.

Not wanting to get distracted, Red Alert put the Trypticon info on the back burner and continued his inquiries regarding the mole. He had suspected Mirage, but Prowl arrested and released him, so that was a dead end. Then Red looked into Hoist since that was Grapple's best friend. No leads. From there he looked at special ops, but he couldn't get too close because then Jazz would know he was a suspect. What little he did find however didn't make them look especially guilty.

The more Red Alert looked into it the less sense it made. Everyone had an alibi. No one had a reason to betray the Autobot cause. It felt almost as if there was no traitor; as if everything was normal...but it wasn't, and that was the scariest part of all.

As Red Alert drove down the hot dry road he was suddenly fired upon by a Decepticon jet! He burned rubber as he struggled to stop, and then transformed into robot mode to return fire. The jet was black and purple, but it didn't have Skywarp's triangular earth build. This thing had the bulky blocky look of a Cybertronian shuttle, which most likely meant it was a new Decepticon.

 _So, Ultra Magnus and his crew were followed..._ Thought Red Alert. _Well, that filthy 'Con won't catch up with them._

Red Alert shot several times at the jet, but the blasted thing dodged every shot fired. Red Alert couldn't keep up with the speed and trick moves of this guy, and was getting dizzy from trying. Soon Red tripped on his own pede and fell to the ground, and the Decepticon shot him in the knee joint. Red screamed in pain, but he knew there was no one to hear him. He had abandoned his post, and this was the price he paid.

The Decepticon transformed, but Red Alert still didn't know who it was. He tried to shoot again, but the Decepticon just swatted his gun away like it was child's play.

"Thanks for the warm welcome, Autobot," The Decepticon said in a smarmy Helexian accent, "Name's Octane. What's yours?"

"None of your slagging business!" Red Alert shouted defiantly.

"Nice to meet ya, None-of-your-slagging-business," Octane mocked the security officer, "You know, I have a friend who would just _love_ to meet you!"

Before Red Alert could object Octane shot him in the helm; knocking Red Alert out. Octane then carried the helpless Autobot away, smirking to himself at the horrible fate that awaited this unlucky mech.

* * *

Wheeljack and his Dinobots had made it as far as the main entrance to the Ark. It was hard to be inconspicuous traveling with five mechanical Dinosaurs, especially when they all either wanted things or made too much noise. Sludge kept straying from the others to check out shiny things, Slag and Snarl were fighting, Grimlock was yelling at Slag and Snarl for ignoring his orders, and Swoop kept asking every other minute where they were going. In short, it was a lousy road trip before they even got out of the driveway.

It was under these circumstances that the group made it to the entrance, and it was under these circumstances that they encountered their first obstacle; Prowl.

"Ah, Wheeljack, Dinobots," Prowl greeted them distractedly, "Have you seen Red Alert anywhere? I believe he's gone AWOL on us."

"What AWOL mean?" Sludge asked ignorantly.

"It a general, like AWOL Jackson," Slag explained, even though he didn't know the answer either.

"That _Stonewall_ Jackson, you dope," Grimlock corrected his brother, "Him Slag full of borillium bologna!"

"Um, Prowl, as you can see we're very busy," Wheeljack spoke over his arguing sparklings, "So if we could just go outside to search for Red Alert that would be great."

"But we wanna go to Bedrock!" Sludge argued, "Him Red Alert no in Bedrock!"

Prowl didn't understand what Sludge was saying, but he did need every capable Autobot he could find to search for the wayward security chief. Prowl stepped aside to allow Wheeljack and his brood to pass, but then suddenly there was a shout.

"Don't let him get away!" Ratchet yelled at Prowl, "Everyone, stop!"

"Uh oh," Wheeljack muttered under his breath.

Ratchet came running with Brainstorm, Perceptor, and Kup in tow.

"Is something wrong?" Prowl asked, unaware of recent discoveries.

"Brainstorm," Ratchet turned his attention to their guest, ignoring Prowl, "See this mech with the head fins and striped paint? Who is this?"

"Um..." Brainstorm stared at Wheeljack in confusion for a few seconds before finally saying, "I haven't the foggiest notion. Who is he?"

"Wheeljack?" Ratchet turned his angry glare to his friend, "Brainstorm doesn't recognize you. Care to explain?"

"I don't know him," Wheeljack replied defensively, "Why would he recognize me if we've never met?"

"What going on here?" Grimlock asked aggressively as he stepped in front of Wheeljack, "You Ratchet have problem with him Wheeljack?"

"Grimlock, this doesn't concern you," Ratchet admonished.

"What in Unicron are _those_ things?" Brainstorm asked fearfully once he got a good look at the large beastly looking Dinobots.

"Uh, we am Dinobots," Sludge replied, too oblivious to know he had been insulted.

"Would someone mind telling me what's going on?" Prowl asked insistently.

"This Wheeljack is an imposter," Brainstorm declared, "I was Wheeljack's oldest dearest friend. We've known each other our entire lives. This mech is _not_ Wheeljack. He's not even the right frame type, and I can assure you Wheeljack didn't speak with a Helexian accent and associate with primitives."

"Okay, hold on!" Wheeljack suddenly snapped, "You can insult me, but if you talk trash about my creations then we have a problem."

" _Where is Wheeljack_!?" Brainstorm asked heatedly, "What did you do with Wheeljack? Where is my friend, you phony? _Where is he_!?"

Brainstorm clenched his fists to avoid saying or doing something he would regret. Vorns of grief and moments of unrealized hope all culminated into this moment of barely restrained rage. Wheeljack looked at the pain and turmoil on this mech's faceplate, and he sighed in defeat.

"He's dead," Wheeljack told Brainstorm, and nearly everyone looked at Wheeljack in shock, "The real Wheeljack died at Simfur. I stole his identity when I found the body. It's true, I'm not Wheeljack, not really."

There was a sudden clatter as a wrench dropped to the ground, a wrench Ratchet had been holding in case things got out of hand. He looked at his best friend, and suddenly realized he didn't know him at all. He didn't even know Wheeljack's name. This mech...was a stranger.

"Wheeljack," Prowl recovered first and walked around to face the imposter, "Or whoever you are, I have just one question for you and I expect an honest answer. Were you the one that gave the Decepticons the code to steal the ionic destabilizer?"

"Yeah," Wheeljack replied; his voice casual yet regretful, "It's my machine though. If I gave it away then what difference does it make? Besides, we got it back. It's still here, safe and sound. No harm done."

"You call what you've put your fellow Autobots through 'no harm'?" Prowl asked sharply, "Everyone suspected everyone else of treason. Red Alert is missing because of you. A fallen scientist wasn't given a proper funeral service because you stole his designation and his life. Also, if I am not mistaken, you just tried to make off with the Dinobots. Were you going to give them to Megatron, too?"

"No!" Wheeljack objected forcefully, "I would never do that to them!"

"How can we trust anything you say now? You've been lying to us for over 10 million years," Prowl pointed out, "Wheeljack, or whatever your name is, you are hereby under arrest and will be court martialed at the Prime's discretion."

"Wait! Him Wheeljack not criminal!" Swoop protested, but to no avail.

Prowl took a pair of stasis cuffs out of his subspace, and Wheeljack offered his wrists without argument. Wheeljack was then led away, and Brainstorm could no longer hold it in as he broke down crying for the loss of his friend; a grief that had been delayed for far too long.

The Dinobots looked at each other, not knowing what to do. Wheeljack was their creator and the one that treated them like more than grunt soldiers and pawns. At the same time though, the Autobots said that Wheeljack was a bad person and had done something terrible. Wheeljack didn't even deny it. What were they supposed to do now?

"Ratchet?" Swoop was the first to speak up, "We no want to go back to lair alone. Him Wheeljack always tell us story."

"I don't have time," Ratchet groused in frustration, "I have to tend to Cosmos, convene with the other officers about Wheeljack's tribunal, go with First Aid to examine Metroplex...I'm sorry Dinobots, but I can't."

"But you took him Wheeljack away!" Grimlock bellowed at Ratchet, "We want story, and we want him Wheeljack back!"

"Stop calling him Wheeljack!" Brainstorm wailed, "That's not that monster's name! Don't you get it? He isn't just an imposter, he's a Decepticon! He probably killed Wheeljack just so he could replace him!"

"Now Brainstorm, calm down," Kup interjected, "We'll figure everything out in due time. For now, I'm guessing these big strong warriors are on the young side, right?"

"Yes, they're Wheeljack's creations, and currently five earth years old," Ratchet explained.

"Well then, I'm guessing you guys like adventure stories about life and death situations and traveling to exotic galaxies," Kup said in an avuncular tone of voice.

"Ooh, yeah! With lots of explosions!" Slag cried out excitedly.

"Well alright then," Kup nodded affectionately as he patted Slag's shoulder guard, "Don't worry Ratchet, I'll take care of the Dinobots. It'll be nice to have someone around who hasn't heard all of my stories yet. You just take all the time you need to process this situation."

"Thanks, Kup," Ratchet replied gratefully.

Kup then walked away with the five Dinobots, already in the process of telling them about petro-rabbits as their voices grew fainter with distance.

* * *

Red Alert awoke to find he was still outside, but it was no longer a desert. Instead he was tied up beside the feet of the Decepticon who had captured him, and they were both on a seashore where no humans were gathered. The lack of people was likely due to the cold, as Red Alert felt like he was freezing his transistors off.

As Red Alert struggled to gain his bearings, he heard a loud rumble that seemed to come from both above and below them. It didn't take long to see where that noise was coming from as a large black shape emerged from the water like a towering behemoth. At first Red Alert thought it was a new ship like the Nemesis, which was also under the ocean, but that thought was dispelled when Red noticed the monster's sharp teeth, reptilian face, tiny arms and powerful legs. In truth, this thing reminded Red Alert of a giant shadowy Grimlock. He knew what it was though from Swindle's description, and his suspicion was confirmed when Octane said-

"Trypticon, baby! You're back just in time!" Octane greeted the massive Decepticon enthusiastically, "I just captured our first Autobot."

"Rrrg...Trypticon hungry!" The beast roared as it struggled to look down at them; the other two Transformers were tiny by comparison.

"What the slag did you Decepticons _do_!?" Red Alert asked; his danger subroutines on the verge of fritzing at the sight of the dinosaur city-former.

"This is Trypticon," Octane said with pride, "Shockwave and the Constructicons worked tirelessly to make this beautiful youngling a reality, and Megatron has entrusted me with its care. I don't know where Shockwave got the idea for the weird aesthetic design of him, but Trypticon is an honest-to-goodness Titan. Isn't that right, Tryppy baby?"

"Trypticon still hungry!" The titular Titan bellowed impatiently.

"Don't worry big guy, I've got you covered," Octane assured his charge, "You already know Autobots are our enemies, but I bet you didn't know that they're filled with tasty energon. This piece of slag can be a snack until we get you some real energon, okay baby?"

"No!" Red Alert shouted in panic, "You leave me alone! Eating a fellow Cybertronian is cannibalism!"

"Trypticon's a Titan. He can do whatever he wants," Octane replied with a malicious smirk, "He's all yours, baby."

Red Alert stood up and tried to run away, but with his arms and legs tied up movement was nearly impossible. Red hopped away, but all Trypticon had to do was bend down to pick up the red and white Lamborghini-former.

Red Alert screamed and struggled as the behemoth lifted him up to his gaping maw. After everything he had been through to free Cybertron from Megatron's grip, this couldn't be how it ended. Red Alert refused to let some giant Dinobot knockoff be the one to kill him, and he refused to die a death as undignified as being eaten alive. He summoned all his strength, and managed to break free of his stasis chains!

As Trypticon almost had Red Alert to his mouth, the security officer thought quickly and kicked the beast in the snout as hard as he could! Red's injured knee joints nearly shattered from the impact, but it had the desired effect on his opponent. Trypticon roared in pain and accidentally dropped Red Alert.

Red's landing broke a couple struts, but he couldn't allow himself to think about the pain now. If he didn't get away his injuries wouldn't matter. Red Alert transformed into car mode despite how painful it was to do so, and he drove down the road from the rocky cliff away from the Decepticons.

Of course it couldn't be that easy for Red. He soon heard footfalls and realized the city-former was chasing him! This was bad. Red could go pretty fast in his alt mode, but each step that Godzilla wannabe took covered at least a quarter mile, a half mile when he was running! Red couldn't keep up speeds like that for long. He knew that Trypticon would eventually catch him if he didn't think of something quick.

Just then Red Alert saw what he believed to be the most beautiful sight of his entire life; a cave. If he could just get inside then Trypticon wouldn't be able to follow him. Octane would likely follow him inside, but Red Alert would have a fair chance of fending Octane off in close quarters. He revved up his engine as hard as it would go, knowing that cave was his only hope.

The air behind Red Alert suddenly felt very hot, so Red positioned his side mirrors to see what was going on. Trypticon was breathing fire trying to fry him and make him stop! That blasted thing not only looked like a Dinobot, but it had their powers too! Red already knew a beast-city-former was strange, but there was something about this monstrosity that really felt off to the seasoned Autobot.

Somehow, against all odds, Red Alert made it inside the cave. He felt the cave mouth shake when Trypticon rammed into it trying to get to the tasty morsel inside. Red's spark thrummed harder in his chassis than it ever had before, and given that this was Red Alert that was saying something. He was just grateful that the beast couldn't follow him inside.

Octane landed near where Trypticon was trying to reach his arm inside to get Red Alert out. He tapped the overgrown sparkling on the shoulder to alert Trypticon to his presence.

"Trypticon lose enemy!" Trypticon whined, "No can get Autobot!"

"Don't worry about it," Octane replied coolly, "I scanned the area. That cave only has one opening; this one. Just smash it closed and he'll be trapped in there. He'll use up all his energy escaping, and then you can eat him. Okay?"

"D'aww, okay," Trypticon conceded.

The hulking city-former then started pounding against the stone opening, and the rocks easily gave way to his might. The opening to the cave was sealed, and Red Alert was trapped. If he wanted to escape, he would have to face his fate with Trypticon.

"Alright then. Now go back to your land mass and transform back into city-mode," Octane ordered, "Megatron will be most pleased with you, big guy. You're gonna make a great earth-based Decepticon headquarters."

The Decepticons then walked away, not having enough time to worry about some random Autobot.

Red Alert, meanwhile, looked forlornly at the cave-in. He had transformed back into robot mode, and it became apparent that his condition was dire. His knee joints and spinal struts were all injured, and now that he was no longer in danger the pain suddenly became intense and debilitating. He screamed and fell to the ground, knowing this could be his tomb if nothing was done.

Knowing it was a long shot, Red Alert tried to call Autobot HQ; hoping the 'Cons didn't jam the signal. It took a moment, but finally someone from Teletraan 1 answered him.

/Red Alert?/ Bumblebee asked in surprise, /Where are you? Prowl has been tearing this ship apart looking for you!/

/Bumblebee...send...help.../ Red Alert rasped as he struggled with the pain, /The Decepticons...have a city-former. I'm trapped...in a cave. Send...Omega Supreme. City-former...is dangerous. Designation Trypticon./

/I'll tell Optimus immediately,/ Bumblebee promised, /Just hang tight, sir. We'll get you out of there./

/If I don't make it out,/ Red Alert said quickly, /I'm innocent. I swear...on my carrier's grave...that I didn't...betray our cause./

/I know,/ Bumblebee replied, a hint of sadness in his tone, /We found the traitor. Just hold on. I'm tracking your coordinates and someone will be there soon. Bumblebee out./

After hanging up with Red Alert, Bumblebee rushed to find Optimus Prime. He knew their security chief was in immediate danger. He couldn't believe the Decepticons had built a city-former. Well, the Autobots had one too, and Metroplex had way more experience than some newbuild Megatron probably commissioned while he was overcharged.

If Red Alert made it back safely Bumblebee knew their next conversation would be awkward and spark breaking. Bumblebee still couldn't fathom it. Wheeljack was the traitor? Their Wheeljack? The Wheeljack that had worked with him on countless energon scavenging missions, who built inventions that saved their lives, who laughed and smiled and lit up the room whenever he showed up? That Wheeljack? It didn't make sense, and it made Bumblebee's spark ache. It felt like everything was hitting the Autobots all at once, and Bee wasn't sure how many more surprises he could take.


	9. Shift

_Author's Notes: Hi guys, I'm back! This chapter was supposed to be longer, but the scenes took more time than originally anticipated so I'm posting it as-is so you guys will have a chapter sooner. I also wanted to share a realization I had a few days ago, though you're all smart and probably already knew this. I always assumed Galvatron got his name because it combined the terms "Megatron" and "Galvanized Steel". Turns out though that galvanism is a currently discredited science popularized in the 19th century that involved attempting to reanimate corpses using electricity. So Galvatron likely got his name from the fact that in his original movie appearance Unicron effectively used his electrical powers to raise Megatron from near death. Yeah...this probably isn't news to anyone else..._

* * *

Chapter 9

Shift

"You are certain?" Optimus asked Bumblebee after hearing him out.

"That's what he said. A city-former," Bumblebee confirmed, "We've gotta save Red Alert before that giant tears him apart!"

"Indeed," Optimus nodded as he turned to several gathered Autobots, "Ultra Magnus, Hot Rod, and Kup. I want you three to take Metroplex to Red Alert's coordinates for a rescue mission. Be very careful to stay away from populated areas. Humans are smaller than minibots and cannot handle a lot of pressure."

"Got it. No squishing," Hot Rod replied nonchalantly, "We can handle it, Prime."

"Hey!" Grimlock suddenly shouted from the doorway, "We Dinobots want to go too!"

"Yeah, we want to fight!" Slag added gamely.

"I would not suggest bringing the Dinobots along," Ultra Magnus contended, "They are creations of the traitor and might be secretly working for Megatron."

"Hey! We no am traitors!" Slag snapped in offense, "Me Slag no take that from big blue truck! We fight!"

"I do not intend to fight with- oof!" Ultra Magnus couldn't even finish his sentence before Slag tackled him and tried to use his horns to stab his optics!

Ultra Magnus held back the triceratops, who looked more like a raging bull than an Autobot at this point. Grimlock transformed into robot mode and dragged Slag off Ultra Magnus, but likewise gave the unit commander the skunk-optic.

"Me Grimlock order you Slag to stop!" Grimlock boomed as he threw Slag onto his side and held him down, "We not fight Autobots! We _am_ Autobots!"

"Him blue boy call us Dinobots traitors!" Slag screamed as he struggled with Grimlock, "We no am traitors! We am Dinobots! We best fighters and they no care! _We no mean anything to them_!"

"Stop it! Stop fighting!" Swoop shrieked, "Him Red Alert in danger! We need do something now!"

"Optimus?" Kup spoke over the chaos, "If the Dinobots wanna lend a servo I don't mind. I could use the company, and it's always fun to watch Ultra Magnus squirm. If what we're dealing with is as bad as Red Alert indicated, then we'll need all the help we can get."

"Very well," Optimus agreed, "Ultra Magnus, you and I will ride in Omega Supreme. Kup, Hot Rod, and Dinobots, you ride in Metroplex. Ultra Magnus, I also insist we take Ratchet with us. Red Alert might need a medic."

"Yes, sir," Ultra Magnus replied professionally; able to pretend he didn't get knocked on his aft by a dinosaur.

"Autobots, roll out!" Optimus ordered, and everyone dispersed.

As they left Swoop took a look back at Optimus and Ultra Magnus. He already knew he and his brothers weren't Optimus Prime's favorite troops, but now he wondered if their lives were going to get worse because of what happened to Wheeljack. Swoop and the others didn't really have time to process what was going on, and his brothers could cope with trauma by fighting. Swoop wasn't like that though. He was still afraid. He was afraid for Wheeljack, and he was afraid for his brothers. Would they be put into stasis lock? Would Wheeljack? What was going to happen to them?

* * *

Prowl sat in his office drinking a hot cube of energon and contemplating the case. He felt like such a failure. Sure, the case was solved, but it wasn't because of him. It was all good timing and serendipity. Nothing more.

There was a knock on the door and before Prowl could ask who it was the door opened to admit Jazz. Jazz had some data pads, most likely daily reports, but Prowl knew that wasn't why he was there.

"You feelin' alright, Prowler?" Jazz asked casually, though the concern was there below the surface.

"I eliminated Wheeljack as a suspect almost immediately," Prowl vented, "It wasn't that there was evidence to exonerate him, I just...couldn't imagine him doing something like that. I certainly never considered that there was anyone here living under a false identity. Normally I can peg people, Jazz. Normally I can detect a lie from the other side of the room. Not with him though. He fooled us all so perfectly, and yet one thing still bothers me. Why? Why wait so long to reveal himself? A normal spy would stick around long enough to find useful information, and then either kill the enemy or set up a trap for them to be slaughtered. You're special ops, what do you think his endgame was supposed to be?"

"I have a few theories," Jazz replied, his tone unusually serious, "Prowl, I know you're supposed to interrogate him in a few minutes. Let me do it. I've seen his type before. I think I can do more good in there than you can."

"I happen to be an excellent interrogator," Prowl replied in offense.

"I know," Jazz replied calmly, "But Wheeljack knows us. I don't think I can explain it Prowl, but your level of authority will just make him shut down. You're an officer, but I think what he'll respond better to is a friend. Just give me twenty minutes. I'll figure out what's goin' on."

Prowl sighed and placed his servos flat on his desk. He hated admitting failure, and he hated giving other mechs work that he could do himself, but Jazz had a point. A cop might make Wheeljack become defensive and refuse to speak. Decepticons were better equipped to handle confrontation than kindness. Decepticons...it was sickening how easy it was for Prowl to suddenly refer to Wheeljack as a Decepticon. Not a mole. Not a turncoat. A _Decepticon_. Wheeljack was never on their side, and Prowl was surprised to find he was hurt by this thought.

"Tell me what you find," Prowl finally said; giving Jazz the go-ahead.

"Will do," Jazz replied; his stylish nonchalance back in place as if their serious conversation never happened.

* * *

Alone in a cell in the brig, Wheeljack couldn't believe this orn had finally come. He never thought he would be caught, and he certainly never thought he would turn himself in. He had gone by the name Wheeljack for longer than his own given designation. Now it felt like his life was over.

The door whooshed open and Wheeljack expected to see Prowl, but instead he saw Jazz standing there in front of the energy bars to his cell.

"Hey there, my mech. How you holdin' up?" Jazz asked jovially, as if it were just another day instead of the day Wheeljack was arrested.

"I've been better," Wheeljack replied in an equally casual manner, "How's Ratchet doing?"

"He'll be alright," Jazz replied.

"I have to admit, I expected to see Prowl here," Wheeljack told Jazz.

"Yeah, he wanted to be here," Jazz chuckled, "I knew It'd be better if you talked to me first though. I know this'll sound crazy, but I can empathize with how you must've felt all these vorns."

"How do you figure?" Wheeljack asked as he narrowed his optics in a rare moment of annoyance.

"Mech, I'm in special ops. Nobody knows more about puttin' on the mask than me," Jazz replied with a wry smile.

"The mask?" Wheeljack asked as he subconsciously touched his welder's mask.

"You know, _the mask_ ," Jazz emphasized, "That part of you that everybody likes. The part of you that's fun, open, and ready for a slice of anythin'. The part that hides how you really feel and what you really think, because you know that in order for people to like you, they can't really _know_ you. Trust me, I know the mask better than anyone."

"I see," Wheeljack replied noncommittally.

"I have a lot of friends around here," Jazz commented, "But Prowl's my best friend. You know why? Because I can take my mask off in front of him, and he can handle it. His spark is open enough and his tanks are strong enough that I can tell him what I really do as the leader of special ops. I can tell him about every mech I've killed, every lie I've told, and every scar I carry, and he can sit there and listen without judgin' me. It's pretty weird when I think about it sometimes. Prowl don't have no mask. He is who he is, and what you see is what you get. Sometimes, I'll admit, I get jealous of that. Bein' able to live without a mask."

"I know what you mean," Wheeljack commiserated, "I feel the same way about Ratchet. Part of me feels bad for him that he became so bitter and cranky with age, but another part remembers he's no older than me. He allows himself to just say whatever he feels and sometimes lets his wrench do the talking, if you know what I mean. I don't regret my attitude. I like to make people smile. Still though, sometimes I wish I could just take my welding torch and use it to seal a few mouths shut. Ratchet would."

"Yeah, so would Prowl, and then he'd make 'em clean up the Ark with a toothbrush," Jazz grinned, "Me though, I wear my style like a suit. It's saved my life a few times too. Do you remember when I spent two vorns undercover in a Decepticon base under the designation Meister?"

"I remember you had to paint yourself silver," Wheeljack quipped, "I thought you looked dead, but whatever works I guess."

"My point is I spent two vorns collectin' info on the Decepticons," Jazz reminded him, "Do you know why they talked to me despite my low rank?"

"Well, not to sound like a femme or anything, but I would say it's because you're charming," Wheeljack guessed.

"Exactly. It's the mask," Jazz said with a sly smirk, "I know you're countin' on your mask to save you too. You're hopin' Prime'll feel sorry for you and not order your execution. I think your chances are good actually. One thing I want you to know though, you don't have to wear your mask around me. I know you've carried a heavy burden all these vorns, and this is probably your best chance to unload some of it. The first bit I think you should unload is your designation."

"Huh?" Wheeljack asked in confusion.

"Your name. I can't call you Wheeljack no more, and I wanna know who I've really been talkin' to," Jazz said encouragingly.

"You'll be disappointed," Wheeljack told him, "I was never anyone important. You won't know the name."

"Try me," Jazz prodded.

Wheeljack sighed dramatically and said "Alright. If you insist. My name is Makeshift."

"Makeshift, huh? Never heard of him," Jazz shrugged.

"Told you," Makeshift replied.

"So, you mind tellin' me what happened that brought you to us, Makeshift?" Jazz requested.

"Well...I'm probably gonna die anyway, so I might as well set the record straight, I guess," Wheeljack replied in defeat, "Okay. First of all, before you can understand who I was as a Decepticon, I think it's important for you to know why I joined them in the first place."

"Alright," Jazz nodded.

Jazz then pulled up a chair, and Wheeljack began to pour out his spark as he finally let the vorns of regret and suspicion flow out of his vocalizer.

"I was built by Vector Sigma during the age of Sentinel," Makeshift explained, "I don't know if I ever had a family or if I was just designed to work. My early memories are corrupted due to age. The first thing I do remember though is living in a foundling home in Helex. I was never exactly an angel, if I'm honest. I was the sparkling that grifted the other sparklings out of their energon, toys, and money. At first I worked my hustle alone, but then another grifter from the home noticed how well I did and approached me. I thought he was gonna beat me up for stealing his turf, but instead he said we should join forces. That mechling grew up to be a pretty famous Decepticon soldier; Octane."

"I've heard of him," Jazz commented, "He's in charge of the fuel reserves in Polyhex where Shockwave keeps the energon surplus. It's the biggest most well-guarded fuel repository on Cybertron."

"Yeah, well he wasn't always so strong. He was always clever though," Makeshift replied wistfully, "Even though we worked together as business partners in the foundling home, what really made us friends is what happened after that. We were both sold to a mech that owned a pumping station for fueling drones. I remember how miserable that place made us, and how we would spend all orn filling up drones and then filling up tanks to fill up more drones. The gases were nearly toxic, the sun was hot and we were never allowed inside, and the owner would beat us sometimes."

"You were slaves? That's illegal!" Jazz replied in outrage.

"It was illegal, in Iacon," Makeshift pointed out, "At that time it was legal in Helex for business owners to 'hire' unaccounted for sparklings and younglings. Octane and I were treated worse than cyberhounds, but then one day we had enough and decided to escape."

"Sounds dangerous," Jazz remarked.

"It was, though frankly it wasn't as exciting as you'd think," Makeshift wryly replied, "In the movies escaping slavers involved shootouts, alt mode chases, explosions, and the military. In real life though, Octane and I just waited for our master to take his lunch break, and then we just walked away. We didn't run because that would look suspicious to onlookers; we just kept walking. We had heard that Iacon was the land of freedom and gold, so that was our destination. We actually travelled to many city-states over the vorns. We upgraded in Altihex, we made the most money in Protohex, I dated my first femme in Trion Delta, and I broke up with her so Octane and I could continue our journey to Iacon. I gotta tell you though, Iacon might not have had slavery, but it wasn't a better place to live."

"Why not?" Jazz asked.

"Because the caste system worked against us," Makeshift replied, "We didn't have identity papers, so technically we weren't supposed to live in Iacon. We did anyway though, and typically shined pedes and performed on the streets to survive. Octane loved singing and dancing, and I was a great actor. Sometimes I would pretend to be lost or act like I had lost my pet, and while the person was distracted Octane would hack their subspace and steal their credits or valuables. It was a life I guess. It was all we knew, at least. That all changed when we went to the stadium to try to grift the tourists. That stadium was filled with dissidents, and they were all there to hear Megatron speak against the caste system. When we heard him speak, it was as if he were speaking to us. It was like our optics had been wiped clean and we saw how unfair the world was, not just to us but to everybody. That was the orn we became Decepticons."

"I've heard similar stories from former 'Cons that joined the Autobots," Jazz told him, "I understand Megatron used to be quite the public speaker before the war officially began."

"Oh he was, but more than that, Octane and I were tired of being bums," Makeshift said, "We wanted money, respect, and power. We were nothing, but the Decepticons could change everything for us if we got in on the ground floor. Octane did the talking for both of us since he was such a good hype mech. He quickly became a favorite test subject of Shockwave's since Octane would say yes to anything. At one point Shockwave tried to convince me to test a new Omni-shifter he was working on, but I said no. Octane was reformatted into a triple-changer, and thankfully it was a success. I saw some mechs go mad trying to adjust to two forms. It was really creepy. I mostly did grunt work because that was all I was good at. I was good at faking being smart, but I wasn't actually smart."

"Really? I never would've guessed," Jazz replied with an amused smile, "You've been our go-to engineer for so long I can't even picture you without your toolkit and that welder's mask you wear."

"Yeah well, about that..." Makeshift said sheepishly, "As I said, I mostly did grunt work. I wanted to do more though. The chance came when the council hid away the scientists and educated Cybertronians that refused to join the Decepticons. I was assigned to spy for the 'Cons and find out where the eggheads were taken. They figured since I could convince anyone of almost anything I was the perfect candidate for the job. I pretended to be the accountant for a grant foundation and said I was looking for Vaccina. I was directed to the hideout at Simfur, and went there to confirm the site. The targets were all there, so I contacted my squad leader and requested info on when the attack would go down so I could get out of the blast zone. Less than a joor later the attack happened, but I wasn't warned."

"Lemme guess, they were afraid you'd get cold pedes and betray them," Jazz stated rather than asked.

"I don't know. All I know is that I was caught in the crossfire, and I saw the true horror of what we'd done for the first time," Makeshift sighed, "I heard screams and cries all around me. I saw bodies ripped apart, and everything was white and red with the flashing of laser rifles and the burning of fire. I heard one mech scream 'Wheeljack!' before being cut off mid-scream. I was knocked over by a shockwave from a bomb, but my heavy armor saved me from most of the salvos. When I woke up I was in an Autobot medbay, and I was sure I had been captured to be tortured for information and then executed. When the medic asked for my name though, I realized no one knew who I was. No one knew me, and the Decepticons thought I had died. So, I remembered the name Wheeljack, not actually knowing who he was, and took his name as my own."

"To what end?" Jazz asked pointedly.

"To start over," Makeshift declared without shame, "I thought if I could start over as an Autobot, then maybe I would survive. Problem was, I soon found out Wheeljack was a scientist. Not only that, but I couldn't even understand his field of study. All the great literary and scientific records of Cybertron had been burned in the fires at Simfur, so I couldn't even find a photo of Wheeljack, let alone any of his published papers. Then I realized that this could work to my advantage. If _I_ couldn't research Wheeljack, then no one else could either. I wasn't the brightest bulb in the box, but if I could just pick a field of study that was achievable then I could fool everyone and make a new life for myself. That's why I picked engineering, because it involves working with your servos yet it doesn't involve the more theoretical aspects of scientific study."

"Heh heh, you know the funny part about that?" Jazz asked with a slag eating grin, "It turns out the real Wheeljack was a theoretical physicist. He probably couldn't build a weapon or a computer if his life depended on it, yet he likely also knew secrets of the universe that have been lost to antiquity."

"Figures, huh?" Makeshift laughed along with Jazz, "Yeah, I wasn't sure how I was going to learn about science enough to convince everyone I was who I said I was, but then I met Perceptor. All I had to do was stroke his ego enough to get him to tell me everything he knew. I didn't understand it all, but I made sure to pay as close attention as I could. Then less than a vorn later I was asked to build a device for Optimus Prime himself. Needless to say I was nervous, but I did it. Problem was that the Decepticons stole it. Good news was it wasn't built properly and exploded into millions of pieces. Yeah...truth is, I know more now than I used to, but I'm still not that great at making things. That's why they always blow up in my faceplate. That's why when I got the idea for the Dinobots I made sure to include Ratchet. If I was going to make living things, then I knew extra caution was needed."

"I don't get one thing though," Jazz pondered, "If you really wanted to be an Autobot and didn't want to betray us, then why give the Decepticons a working weapon? Why turn against us now after so many centi-vorns of loyalty?"

Makeshift hung his helm then, unable to look Jazz in the visor. Jazz could practically feel the guilt radiating off the mech's frame, and he waited, knowing that Makeshift would talk.

"I got a call from Laserbeak two weeks ago," Makeshift began, "It was a text message since Laserbeak doesn't talk, but that blasted bird found out who I really was. He knew I was Makeshift, and he told Megatron. I was also sent tech specs of their latest warrior; a city-former named Trypticon. The threat was clear, give us what we want or Trypticon will kill your Dinobots and the Autobots will know your secret. I didn't care about me, but the Dinobots are the closest thing I will ever have to sons. I couldn't allow them to fight a foe they couldn't win against. So, I did what Megatron wanted. I knew they would keep using me for as long as I lived, but I didn't feel I had a choice. I still don't. Maybe I should be executed. I don't wanna die, but at least if I'm gone then Megatron loses his bargaining chip."

That last sentence shocked Jazz more than anything else Makeshift had said. He had never seen his old friend so despondent, so defeated. Jazz had a duty to perform regarding the investigation, so he would have to tell Prowl everything that was said in the brig. That was the least of his problems though. Makeshift not only admitted he had betrayed the Autobots, but also told Jazz that he was likely to do it again.


End file.
